Causing Havoc in Two Dimensions
by crazyman844
Summary: Rakatan technology is notable for being highly advanced. Havoc squad find out just how advanced it can be when it's CO is tossed out of one dimension, out of the life she knew, and thrust into one very different from her own. At least her credits still work.
1. Rakatan Technology is a Bitch

"You wanted to see me General?"

General Garza took a moment to examine the woman in front of her. Slightly on the short side, with slightly tanned skin, red hair and bright green eyes, a half smile tugging at her lips, on the face of things you would not see a soldier. You might see a doctor, or perhaps a model, the looks were certainly there.

But then the other things made themselves known. The large tattoo in the shape of the Havoc squad insignia over one eye was a big give away that the person in front of you was a soldier. Those who were not in the military with such tattoos either had retired, left, or found themselves facing 'suggestions' that the tattoo be removed. Especially that tattoo. It had to earned.

What gave away that the red haired woman was a soldier was her eyes. In them was a quiet calm that combined perfectly with an unrelenting, burning fury and will stronger than Beskar, the near legendary metal of the Mandalorions, to create one of the finest soldiers that the galaxy had seen.

The heavy powered armour and assault cannon, both either one of a kind or verging on illegal, slung over one shoulder may also have given the game away.

"Major Blackstone, thank you for being prompt." Garza gestured to a nearby seat in the small briefing room within the Senate Tower. "Have a seat."

The major sat, her armour humming and whirring slightly as servo's and electro-fibre muscle flexed, her assault cannon placed on the floor beside her. A few button presses later and an image appeared over the holo-projector. "Two days ago one of our science teams were investigating an abandoned Ratakan facility when they stumbled across the co-ordinates to this space station, located deep within the galactic core. If what we understand from the logs that went with the co-ordinates is true, this was where they conducted some of their most advanced and high tech testing and research, as well as morally dubious and out right morally wrong experiments and tests." Garza watched as the major's eyes flickered over the space station with a practised ease, noting possible entrance points and defence turrets. "Currently there is a fleet in orbit of the station with one of our top research teams on board. I want you to take Havoc squad there and secure the station so our science teams can investigate it in safety, then provide security for them."

"All due respect General, are you sure this is a Havoc squad mission?" The major asked, a frown on her face. "Havoc is far better at destroying things than keeping them intact."

"In most cases yes, this would not be a mission for your squad," Garza agreed with a nod, "however if our information is right, there are artefacts there that we really don't want the Empire to get their hands on. You will only be there until the Jedi can get together a security team of their own. Once they arrive you will be free to return to Coruscant. I took the liberty of ordering your ship stocked with supplies."

The major was still frowning, so the old General threw a small bribe in the ring. "Do this mission major, and I'll pull some strings in R&D, get them working on that prototype assault cannon series you've been bugging them about."

The major's eyes went from frowning and slightly irritated, to sparkling with an almost giddy joy. "We'll be gone by sundown General."

Garza nodded, then dismissed the major. She didn't miss the spring in the younger woman's step as she left. The old woman shook her head, a small smile on her face. What was it with that woman and big guns?

* * *

Major Kythelea Blackstone walked from the Senate Tower, veering between giddy happiness and irritation. Irritation at having to watch over a bunch of scientists, giddy happiness that she was finally, _finally,_ going to have the design she submitted to R &D worked on. It was the result of all the combat that she had seen as CO of Havoc squad, and could make a hell of a difference if made available to other units. She was no engineer, but years of having to repair weapons and armour in the field made her a damn good when it came to knowing the flaws and strengths of her gear.

Yanking her mind from its happy place, she sighed, then sent a message out to her squad, telling them they had a mission and calling them back to the ship. She checked the time as she walked, before frowning and walking slightly faster. It was closer to sundown than she would have liked. They would have to be quick getting back.

She was the first back to the Thunderclap, better known to most of the Republic military as the 'Corellian Comet' after its CO's homeworld, to the Imperial Navy as 'that pesky ship', and pirates knew it as the bane of their existence. To the members of Havoc squad, it was alternatively known as home, if the major was not flying, or the 'Vomit Comet' if Kythelea was flying it. It had actually been Dorne, regulation spouting, model soldier Elara Dorne, who had, in a moment of unexpected unprofessionalism questioned just who in the name of every being holy and unholy had qualified the CO of Havoc Squad as a pilot. The rest of the squad had stared at her, mouths agape, except for Jorgan, who had simply held out a hand to Vik, who finally registered the extended hand, and grumbled before handing over a credit chit. That had admittedly been while in hyperspace after the ship was ambushed by fighters over Hoth, and Kythelea had had to pull off some downright insane manoeuvres in order to escape.

It was Dorne who was also the first to make back to the ship after Kythelea, apart from Forex, who had not actually left the ship in the first place. She had finally stopped saluting every time that she saw her CO, something that had made Kythelea feel twice as old as she actually was.

She restrained herself to a polite nod, then settled into one of the chairs in the on-board briefing room. The boys arrived next, having all gone to a cantina together for a few drinks before dinner. Vik and Yuun were arguing over the pros and cons of techstaves and techblades, again, continuing to do so in low voices even as they took their seats. Jorgan just gave their CO a smile and a nod, before taking his own seat. Forex scuttled in and the door slid shut behind him.

"Good to see you all here so fast." Kythelea said, causing the squad to focus in on her, Vik and Yuun ceasing their argument. "We've got a new mission, as I told you in the message earlier." She keyed up the holo projector, quickly explaining the situation, including Garza's reasoning as to why this mission warranted Havoc squad. "We're going to be there about a week. That's how long it should take for the Jedi to get their team together. Questions?"

There were none. She dismissed them, telling them to check the ship and its supplies for take-off. She was about to leave herself when she noticed Jorgan hadn't left. He was looking at her with a single raised eyebrow.

"What?" She asked.

"What did Garza say she'd do for you to get us on this mission?" He asked, his eyebrow still raised. "I know this isn't the kind of mission of Havoc, you know it, yet you look like you are about to take off."

Kythelea looked at the floor and mumbled a response. She glanced up, noted Jorgan's still raised her eyebrow, then sighed.

"She said that she'd pull strings with R&D for my assault cannon design alright?" Her voice sounded somewhat petulant. Jorgan just chuckled and shook his head.

"Y'know, when you finally get a boyfriend, I'm going to tell him the best way to your heart is with really big guns." He walked out the room, missing the red flush that cover his CO's face.

"You should have got me some then," she whispered under her breath, leaning back on the holotable. She had liked fallen for the gruff and brooding Cathar some time ago, but had never worked up the courage to tell him. It was always a point of private contention. She could walk into an enemy firestorm no problem, but couldn't tell a guy that she liked, no, loved him. It was only her iron self-control that stopped her from turning into a stammering fool when they were talking alone, quietly discussing weapons late at night while the rest of the ship slept.

She sighed, resigned herself to a lost cause, then headed to the cockpit.

* * *

The 'Corellian Comet' slid smoothly into the hanger of the Rakatan station. It was the only place on the station that had been secured by the small complement of Republic marines aboard one of the cruisers that floated outside the station, as they had been given specific orders to wait for Havoc squad. The marine lieutenant there, a big man, was at first irritated that he had to wait for a SpecForce squad before securing the station, but his irritation turned to awe when he spotted the squad striding down the ramp of the Thunderclap. While she had never intended for it to happen, the dark blue and black armour and massive assault cannon that she wore made Kythelea instantly recognisable to those within the military. This lead to both awe, as she faced now, and envy, with some questioning how a woman, and such as _small_ one, could ever be the leader of such an elite squad as Havoc. No-one did so within earshot of her however, partly because of a video that had gained a degree of notoriety in both sides of the wall. It involved Kythelea single handedly wiping the floor with two fellow SpecForce soldiers, both of whom had ridiculed her, before one had tried to grab at her. Some of their insults had been caught in on the video, which was probably why she had only got a slap on the wrist for putting two fellow soldiers in hospital.

"Major Blackstone! It's an honour! Someone on the brass likes us," the lieutenant exclaimed. He snapped up into a salute, which Kythelea returned.

"At ease lieutenant. What's the situation?"

"We've only secured this hanger, as per orders, put I had some men check the exit with probes. There is a breathable atmosphere beyond, and no life signs, organic or droid."

"Would've thought there would be something," Kythelea said, half to herself, then returned her attention to the man in front of her, having crane her neck slightly to look him in the eye. "Any trouble securing the hanger?"

"No sir-"

"Ma'am."

"What?" The lieutenant looked confused.

"Ma'am, not sir. I have tits, not a prick." The lieutenant flushed slightly at that, while Dorne made a slightly aggravated sound at her CO's unprofessionalism. Kythelea ignored her.

"Sorry si- ma'am," he said, catching himself this time. "We had no trouble securing the hanger. Nothing attacked us."

The major raised an eyebrow. "No droids or defence turrets?"

"No ma'am."

Kythelea glanced away, her eyes going distant. "Odd..." she mused quietly to herself. Her eyes flicked back to the lieutenant. "You did a good job soldier. Get your squad ready to unseal the doors."

"Yes ma'am." The man spun on his heel and re-joined his squad, snapping out orders.

"Can't we just blow them open?" Vik said, in a tone that was just short of a whine.

"These are doors we can actually open. I'd rather not blow them apart." The response was deadpan. At the Weequay's pout, Kythelea sighed, and promised that if there were any doors that could not be opened, he could blow them off if it was safe to do so. Unsurprisingly, Vik perked up.

"He's going to blow up something really, really important one day, you do realise that?" Jorgan commented as they headed to the hanger doors, drawing weapons and checking them over.

"Of course I do," Kythelea replied, "I'm just going to make sure that whatever he blows up is also really, really Imperial." She hefted her Commander pattern assault cannon, activating the spinning bolt accelerator, causing it to glow azure as it began spinning slowly, the rest of the weapon's power core also beginning to glow. She set it on the floor for a moment, before putting on her helmet. It hissed as it slid into place, the eye pieces flickering into life and glowing slightly as the HUD booted up. "Come on Aric, time to get back to work."

"Yes ma'am," the Cathar replied with a grin, before slipping on his own helmet. Havoc squad took up positions in front of the door. With a nod at the lieutenant, it hissed open, revealing the empty corridor. Kythelea gazed down the corridor, then closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly. When they opened, it was Major Blackstone of the Republic Special Forces who gazing down the corridor.

"Havoc squad, move out!"

* * *

The station was too quiet.

That was the main thought running through the mind of the whole squad, whether that mind was organic or synthetic. They had passed through many rooms, all of which long abandoned. They didn't relax however. They were Havoc squad. There was no such thing as an easy day at work. There was a tension in the air as well, something that was quietly whispering in the back of their minds that something was going to go horribly wrong.

 _'_ _If someone jinxes this I will have them cleaning the Comet with a toothbrush'_ , thought Kythelea.

The door in front of them hissed open, and Havoc stepped through warily. It seemed like some sort of reactor room, judging by the massive tubes and cables that snaked around the room. Glancing around, the major opened a comm channel to the lead cruiser of the fleet in orbit around the station, while motioning a halt.

"Havoc Lead to Valiant Actual, do you copy?"

Pause.

"Havoc Lead this is Valiant Actual, we copy."

"Actual we seem to be in the main rector room. I'm going to order my tech specialist to power it. I want to you align your sensors and see where the largest concentrations are apart from at my current location."

"Copy that Havoc Lead, give us a minute to align our sensor arrays, then carry on at your discretion."

"Roger that, Havoc Lead out." Closing the channel, the major turned to the squad's tech genius. "Yuun, on my go I want to you to get this reactor restarted. Work your magic."

Yuun nodded, then stepped towards what looked to be the main control panel. Holstering his blaster pistol, he pulled his data pad from his belt, linking it to the console in front of him.

On his CO's signal, he set to work, slowly but surely bringing the systems back online. The room began to hum as the ancient reactor restarted, switching over form backup to primary power.

"Havoc Lead, this is Valiant Actual, we picked up a massive power spike from the room directly above the reactor. It seems to be on par with the reactor itself, but the readings are different."

"Copy that Actual, will investigate." She turned to her squad. "The Valiant picked up a massive power spike from the room directly above this one. We'll double back to that lift and investigate."

"Any idea what caused it?" Jorgan asked, sounding both wary and worried.

"What? You scared of a little power surge kitty-kat?" Vik teased.

"This is Rakatan tech we are talking about Vik," Jorgan snarled, only slightly riled by the insult towards his race. "Who knows what this sith damned power surge could have been caused by."

Vik shut up at that. Jorgan was right. Rakatan tech was highly advanced, and not much was known about it outside science divisions.

"Can it both of you," the snapped order from Kythelea brought both of them up sharp, reminding them they were in the field. "We move to the lift, then to the origin of the surge. Forex, on point."

"Yes ma'am! For the Republic!" The zealously patriotic war droid scuttled forward. The rest of the squad jogged after them, moving slightly less warily as they were going through familiar territory. Once they left the life however, everyone was on full alert, weapons scanning left and right. Jorgan's sniper jumped between far corners, while Elara had her pistol in one hand and a kolto injector mounted onto the back of her other gauntlet. Vik was tossing an explosive of some sort up and down in his left hand, his right holding his techblade. Yuun had his tech staff clutched in both hands, eyes scanning left and right. Kythelea tracked her cannon back and forth, keeping it sweeping in line with her eyes. Forex had his weapons pointed firmly forward.

The door at the end of the corridor slid open with a small grinding of gears. Havoc squad stepped through cautiously. About ten metres in front of them was a round platform, fifteen metres wide, with a shallow pit, about waist deep, in the middle. Above the platform were a series a rods, aligned with the edges of the pit. A humming filled the room.

"What is that?"

It was Vik who finally put voice to the question in everyone's mind.

"Not a clue." Kythelea finally said. She opened a comm channel to the Valiant once more. "Valiant Actual this is Havoc Lead. You seeing this?" She was referring to the armour mounted camera's on her squad's armour. There was a murmur of indistinct voices over the channel before she got a proper response.

"Havoc Lead this is Professor Kardin, we can see the device. I'm afraid we have no idea what it might be, nothing like this has been seen before. I'm about to head over to join you with my science team, as well as a second team of marines. Secure the area for us, and don't touch anything."

"Copy that professor. ETA?" She holstered her assault cannon.

"The equipment has already been loaded into shuttle, we should- Hang on." The professor vanished from the line, leaving Kythelea nervous. When a someone from the science team told you to hang on while you were standing in front of an unknown device, it was rarely good. "Major get o-"

Kythelea hissed in pain as the comm channel squealed, nearly deafening her, then vanished into static.

"Major!"

The shout from Jorgan, caused her head to snap around at him, then seeing that he was not looking at her, she followed his gaze, then quickly drew her blaster pistol. From the ceiling above the centre of the pit something was descending. It looked an eye mounted onto an antenna. It squawked something at Havoc squad.

"What in the nine hells of Corellia is that?" Dorne demanded out loud, so unnerved that she actually swore.

"Language identified. Sentients detected. Scanning for match." The machine voice echoed around the room again, this time in Galactic Basic.

"How is it now speaking Basic?" Vik demanded, glancing at Yuun, who just shrugged.

"No one move, not unless it out attacks you," Kythelea barked, trying to cover her own nerves.

The machine hovered in front of Dorne first, who tensed, ready to spring aside it turned hostile. A blue-green washed over her, but otherwise nothing else happened.

"Match not found."

"What sort of match?" Dorne demanded.

"Maybe it's a soul mate finder, and you don't have one," Vik teased once more, but his nerves slipped into his voice as he saw the machine swing toward him.

Again, not match. "Looks like someone else lacks a soul mate." Vik glared at Jorgan as the Cathar tossed the Weequay's own words right back at him. Kythelea almost snapped at them to be quiet, but the words died in her throat as the machine swung to her. The light washed over her.

"Match found."

Kythelea jerked back.

"A match to what?" She demanded. The machine seemed to gaze at her as if weighing up whether it should tell everything or not. A moment later it seemed to make the decision.

"You match the requirements for the Jump." You could almost hear the capital J on jump.

"Jump, wha-" she began to demand, before an invisible force yanked her forward. It tossed her into the pit, but she managed to stay upright. Barely. The rods dropped from the ceiling, dropping into hole around her, and flickering yellow-green energy fields appeared between them. The entire room began to hum louder and louder, energy building up.

"Major!" Jorgan roared. He ran towards her, only for a second barrier to appear on the edge of the circular platform. It reached the ceiling, and completely encased the platform. He stopped before he hit, ripping off his helmet, a helpless look in his green eyes.

"Get out of here Aric!" Kythelea ordered. She knew she was trapped the humming was becoming a roar too fast. Whatever was going to happen, it would be soon, and they would not be able to stop it.

"Like hell I will Kythelea!" the Cathar yelled back.

"There is nothing you can do lieutenant, now go! That's an order!"

"Then court martial me! I'm not losing you!"

It hit her then. It should have been plain. It certainly was in his voice now. The rest of the crew, except Dorne knowing her, probably had a running betting pool if she knew soldiers.

Aric Jorgan loved her. Probably just as fiercely as she loved him. Only his sniper's patience had probably stopped him saying anything, that and a possible wariness that his feelings were not returned, of being rejected. She had never given him any signs she was interested. What a fool she was.

She did the only thing that she could then. She removed her helmet, clasped it to her belt, then looked him square in the eye. She knew, somehow, she would not get another chance.

"I should have said this long ago Aric. I… I love you."

"….I know," was all Jorgan could say, tender, unexpressed love pouring from his eyes, as if it could somehow save her from whatever fate she was going to.

"Havoc is yours Captain. Do well by them." The tears were blurring her sight. She took a breath, then blew Aric a kiss, a blown kiss for all the ones they could have had. The energies went silent, and for a moment, there was silence, as if the very universe was holding it's breath. Into that silence, the last words of Major Kythelea Blackstone, of Infantry Squad 326, Havoc Squad, seemed to carry to all of them.

"Make me proud Aric."

Drawing on the last of her will power, she pulled herself into a salute. She just had time to see her squad rise from their shock long enough to return it, before the world vanished in green light.

* * *

Long after the light had cleared, the members of Havoc squad sat in shock at the loss of their CO, ignoring the frantic hails from the Valiant. All except one, who stood at the edge of the platform, eyes fixed on the point where his CO, his friend, his love had last stood, unbowed, refusing to meet her fate on her knees, a broken wreck.

A hand placed itself on his shoulder.

"Captain?"

Jorgan turned at the hand on his shoulder, at the soft voice. Dorne looked at him, concern in her eyes. She nodded at the holo terminal on his belt, which was flashing furiously. He slowly, agonizingly, removed it from his belt, flicked it on. Garza appeared, looking furious. She opened her mouth to shout at Jorgan, then noticed the Cathar's desolate expression.

"Lieutenant? What happened?" For once, her voice was soft, concerned, uncharacteristically so.

Jorgan took a shuddering breath. "It's captain, general." His voice was cracking. Garza raised an eyebrow.

"Who promoted you?"

Jorgan's eyes filled with pain. "She did. She gave me Havoc." He took another, shuddering breath, before uttering the words he did not want to say, if only to deny that they were true. "Major Kythelea Blackstone is MIA, presumed KIA."

Hours later, on board the 'Corellian Comet', Jorgan sat on his former CO's bed. Technically it was his now, as CO of Havoc, but he couldn't take it. Not now. His mind would not let him sleep, constantly replay the scene that had happened hours ago. He had had to be helped by Dorne back to the ship, where she had simply sat him on the very same bed he now sat on, placed a bottle of strong alcohol on the bedside table, and left. She had given the report to Garza, then asked the general not to disturb them for a while. The general had quietly agreed.

As his mind replayed the fateful scene in his head, one thing jumped out at him suddenly. The Rakatan machine had called the process a Jump. Rising to his feet, taking the bottle with him, Jorgan walked into the cockpit. He sat himself in the pilot's chair, then spun it to face the map of the galaxy. A jump….

"But where to?" He asked the stars in a small, small voice.

The stars did not reply.

* * *

 **AN:** Welcome to **Causing Havoc in Two Dimensions.**

This is by first attempt at a story with real depth and length. If you have read the tags, you can probably guess some of whats going to happen.

I have no idea if I will be able to keep up this chapter length, but I'm going to try and get 3,000 words in a chapter minimum.

Hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and that it's not too full of cliché and bad writing. Rate, review, and I'll see ya next time!

 **EDIT 30/11/16:** Dorne is now the first to get scanned instead of Jorgan


	2. Welcome to Omega

**Omega**

 _'_ _I'm alive!'_

That was Kythelea's first thought upon finding solid ground beneath her hands and feet, with her heart still beating and her body in once piece. Her second was interrupted when her breakfast made its dramatic reappearance all over the floor directly in front of her.

Spitting out the last of the bile, she mentally checked herself over. Apart from the side effects of throwing up, namely feeling very hungry, she was only had a headache and bruises on her knees, presumably from how she had landed. Her armour was in one piece, and she could feel the comforting weight of both her assault cannon and blaster pistol. Her helmet was still attached to her hip, and she gratefully slid it into place, thanking whatever gods there were for the extra protection and sensors that came with it. It quickly flickered into life, and she examined her surroundings as the HUD snapped into place.

She was in a junk filled room, with rusted machine parts scattered all over the room. The frame of a rusted speeder sat along one wall. The whole room reminded her of the deeper levels of Coruscant, or Nar Shaddaa, once you looked past the bright lights. Grimacing, she stood upright, her armour humming slightly, then removed the assault cannon from her shoulder. In these kind of places, the only language people understood was violence. And big guns. Luckily, she could speak both fluently.

Stepping cautiously forward, she exited the scrap room, walking out into what seemed like a corridor. Or it could have been an alleyway, it was hard to tell sometimes. She stalked forward, cannon at the ready. Light and sound spilled from an open arch ahead of her. Treading carefully, she approached the arch, peering in. What she saw unnerved her.

It was some sort of common room. That was clear from the bar, seats and holoscreen showing some sort of entertainment flick. It was not a cantina, the layout was all wrong, and there were no serving droids, that was clear. That didn't unnerve her. What did were the beings in front of her.

Apart from a trio human, she didn't recognise any of the species.

The group, about sixteen strong was wearing an eclectic mix of dirty armour, various weapons on their backs and hips. A gang of some sort. One could have been a Twi'lek or Chiss, if it weren't for the lack of lekku and red eyes respectively, with her blue skin. Several more were similar to Weequay, but the lines on their faces were much harsher, and they seemed to be even angrier than a nest of Kath hounds. Another was skinny, and looked almost like a something that had crawled out a swamp and learned to walk on two legs with its large round eyes and smooth looking skin.

It was the last group of sentinets that sent shivers down the spin the Republic veteran. Huge, with humped backs, they looked like they could face down a small army by themselves. And there were two of them to boot.

Thankfully the group did not notice her. They were arguing among themselves, and while she could not understand all of it, she could understand some of it. When the humans spoke, they spoke in Basic, much to her relief. She could also mostly understand the blue skinned sentient and, surprisingly, the two massive hump backed aliens, but the others she got the odd word out of.

 _'_ _How can they all understand each other when only the humans are speaking basic?'_ she wondered. _'Did they all learn these different languages?'_

She quickly dismissed this. There were so many different languages and dialects that there were dedicated protocol droids whose sole purpose was to act as translators. To have sixteen people all speaking several dozen languages, especially in a gang, was nearly impossible.

 _'_ _Some sort of translation implant'_ she finally decided. _'Need to get me one of those.'_

First order though, was find out where the hell she was.

She double checked her cannon, as was debating whether to try and sneak past or simply toss a grenade when one wall exploded, shredding two of the Weequay looking sentients with metal shards. The rest howled in outrage or pain, whether they were wounded or not, diving for cover. All except the humped ones and most of Weequay look-alikes, who charged towards the smoking hole, firing their weapons wildly. There were not blaster shots, despite the flashing muzzles, which puzzled Kythelea. Blaster weapons were cheap, so how come this group was unable to get their hands on at least one blaster pistol? She barely had time to blink before they were cut down with systematic, precise weapon fire. Such precise fire meant one of two things. The attacking group were either highly paid, highly skilled mercs….

Or legitimate soldiers.

Her mind made a snap decision. If they were soldiers, she would be failing in her duty if she did not aid them. If they were mercs… She'd cross that bridge when she came to it.

Swinging around the corner, she levelled her cannon at the blue alien and opened fire. A stream of azure death slammed into the woman, blowing open her chest, leaving her very much dead. Ignoring the cries of shock, she spun on her heels, shifting her stance, and activated the ion cannon mounted below the main barrel. A wall of electricity crackled over a pair of the frog like aliens, and they scream, before slumping to the floor. From through the hole, more gunshots echoed, slamming into one of the humans and another frog. They went down, neat holes in their heads. Weapons fire knocked on her shields. Instead of seeking cover, Kythelea turned towards her attacker, then triggered the grenade launcher, sending the projectile straight into the face of a shocked looking frog. Idly, she noticed weapons from her unknown allies taking down a few more frogs, then as a human tried to run, his knee exploded in as shower of blood and bone, and he went down screaming.

So they wanted him alive. She would oblige them.

She spotted the last of the Weequay look-alikes, apparently the only ones not to have charged towards the hole in the wall. She squeezed the trigger on the cannon once more, and once more azure plasma bolts lanced from the end of the barrel, tearing new airways for the trio.

The gunfire ceased, leaving only the kneecapped human on the floor whimpering in pain. Kythelea stared at him for a moment, then holstered her cannon and marched over to him. He saw her approach, and tried to scramble away, but it was useless. Electro-muscle fibre humming, she picked him by his collar, and hauled him towards the jagged hole made by the explosion.

 _'_ _Definitely the Nar Shaddaa of where ever I am'_ , she thought to herself as she hauled the man into the street. Bright lights, dirty streets, piles of junk. It all fit the bill as the seedy underbelly of the galaxy. The major stared out into the street, then flicked on the synthesiser of her helmet. She doubted that anyone would recognise her based off her voice if they hadn't already off her armour. But she didn't want to push her already terrible luck.

"You want your man? Then come fetch him." Her distorted voice echoed around the streets. She dropped the man at her feet, ignoring his cry of pain. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a voice responded. She couldn't understand it, but she got the gist: wait there, we're coming.

A few minutes later she was face to face with a dozen men and women. She examined them, even as they examined her. They were either mercs or vigilantes, but the way several of the held their weapons suggested military training. Particularly so from the one directly in front of her. He was tall, in blue armour, with a wide armoured collar, one that probably followed the outline of his body. His whole body was birdlike, with reverse jointed legs, his face hidden by a helmet. A sniper rifle was cradled in his hands.

This was going to be interesting.

* * *

The armoured woman in front of him was one of the strangest he had ever met. Of that Garrus Vakarian, better known to Omega as Archangel, was certain. She moved in a way that spoke of great battlefield experience, and wielded a weapon that most would have trouble carrying, but that she used as if it weighed no more than an assault rifle. And she was damned accurate to boot. His eyes wondered over her armour. It looked highly advanced, and had enough firepower strapped to give a small army pause. He idly wondered if he could get her to join his squad.

"Who are you?"

The question snapped him out of his thoughts. The synthesised voice was harsh, clearly the woman did not want to be known. He could understand that. His own helmet altered his voice to make it harder to place.

"I could ask you the same." He had replied in English, having picked up the language while working at C-Sec, then refined it on the Normandy. Something about hearing someone speaking your own language helped keep people calm he'd found, even if it was spoken with odd inflections and an accent. The woman twitched.

"I asked first."

Even through the synthesizer, he could hear the stubbornness in her voice.

"But as you humans say, ladies first," Garrus replied, his mandibles flaring slightly in amusement.

"So what's taking you so long?" The deadpan comeback caused his squad to chuckle, one whispering "You just got burned boss," but the Turian vigilante winced. That delivery was pure Shepard, so much so he was temporarily at a loss of words.

His silence seemed to irritate the woman. She straightened slightly. "I asked you a question soldier," her voice a barked command. It held an edge that screamed 'I am an officer and you are wasting my time, so do as I say before I use you as a doormat'. Despite having never been a very good Turian, Garrus could not help but stiffen his spine a bit, in a way that, since he left the Turian military, only Shepard had succeeded in getting him to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other members of his squad who had been military or security forces also straighten.

"Call me Archangel," he replied, and then his snarky edge returned, "may have the honour of your name now m'lady?"

The woman chuckled, and relaxed slightly. "I'm no lady. Call me Havoc." Garrus nodded, slowly. A fair trade. An identifier, but nothing that really gave anything away about themselves.

"Of course not. No lady would dare sully her hands by lugging around a gun nearly as long as she is tall." There was a half joking, half mocking edge to his voice.

"Didn't anyone tell you the best things come in small packages?" The return quip had him caught between grinning and flinching. Once more, exactly like Shepard.

"As a matter of fact some did. They were also on the short side themselves." Garrus shook his head. "As fun as this banter is, I have to ask, what were you doing in the base of a gang that smuggles drugs?"

"A long story short, I just happened by." Garrus raised an eyebrow at that.

"So what's the long story?"

The woman jerked back form him slightly. She seemed pained, and looked away from him. "When I know, I might just tell you."

Garrus' expression softened behind his visor. "You got somewhere to crash?"

The woman glanced at him for a moment. "Please Archangel, at least buy me dinner first." Her tone was amused. Behind him, several of his squad mates sniggered. It took Garrus a moment to get it, but when he did he flared his mandibles in embarrassment.

"That's not-"

"I know," she cut him off. "I'll be fine." She glanced about. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to be around when whatever passes for law enforcement comes knocking." Garrus nodded in response. She turned and was about to leave when Garrus called out to her.

"Havoc." She stopped and turned. "You ever need my help, find Darius in sector 5C. He'll call me."

Havoc nodded then continued walking, quickly becoming swallowed up in the haze of Omega.

"You like her, don't you?"

Garrus turned and glanced at Sidonis, who was standing on his right. He turned back, gazing in the direction that Havoc had gone.

"She reminds me of someone."

* * *

 ** _Two Weeks Later_**

Kythelea idly swirled her drink, listening to the pounding music that rang through Afterlife. It had been two weeks of hell, adjusting to this place, to Omega. That had taken most of the first week, along with acquiring an omni-tool, something she was fairly proficient with, and a translator implant, which she had gotten from a salarian doctor who ran a clinic in the slums. She snorted. Sure, that salarian was a doctor, and a damn good one at that, but he was also far, far more. He noticed far too much. Reminded her of Cipher 9. The two had worked together to take down a Sith Pureblood, who had been considered insane even by Sith standards, wanting a perfect Sith race. The Zabrak had had an eye for detail that some might call obsessive, but that eye for detail made him one of the best snipers and infiltrators in the galaxy, able to pull of shots and escape compounds that even Jedi Shadow's would have had trouble escaping. It had been an alliance of convenience, but they had worked well together, killed Darth Ikoral, then gone their separate ways, if not amiably, then at least peacefully.

She had finally, just about, accepted the fact that she was not in the Republic. Or the Empire. Sith Spit neither of those existed. Was she in a different galaxy entirely? Or were those academics who spoke about multiple universes and dimensions actually onto something? Where ever that Rakatan Device had sent her, she knew that she wasn't getting back. She was stuck here. So what was a woman to do with a big gun, tough armour, the skills to back up any claims she made, and a serious grudge against injustice going to do for a living?

Make the lives of local gangs and thugs hell of course.

It was something that she had had great success with. She had quietly located a couple of gang bases, then gone in a torn them apart, utilising every trick in her considerable arsenal. It had also gained her some credits. She wasn't poor, thankfully her Republic Credits were accepted, if not without some scepticism, and she had had no mean amount on her when she arrived her, but having a source of income, even if it would be inconstant, was nice.

She had also been intrigued by the technology. As she had read into mass effect tech, she could not help but apply it to tech that she already knew. While she was certain that their hyperdrives were superior to mass relays, the ability to use, what was it called again? Eezo, to make objects lighter or heavier had numerous military applications, many of which had been created in one form or another here. The only one missing was some sort of jetpack, which bemused her. Why wouldn't you want to have flying soldiers?

And then there were biotics…

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the words 'Archangel's been cornered' flitted passed her ears. She tracked the source of the conversation to a trio of mercs, Blue Suns by their armours. Two humans and a Batarian. She concentrated, and picked up a few disturbing things.

It seemed that Archangel, the very same turian she had met on first arriving here, had been cornered in his fall back base after his team had been taken out, but that base was incredibly hard to get to, even if the three largest merc bands on Omega, hell in the whole kriffing galaxy, were howling at his door.

She leant back in her seat, knocking back the last of her drink. Should she help him? Stupid question, of course she would help him. He hadn't even known her, yet he had offered her a place to stay, which presumable would have brought with it food and a fresher. So the question was how was she going to help him?

As if the Force was listening, she got her answer. A man approached the three Suns mercs, a freelancer. He claimed he had heard that there was an open contract on Archangel.

"That's right," one of the humans said, "head down to that private room if you want a shot at him. The man inside will explain everything."

The freelancer nodded his thanks, then headed into the room indicated. Kythelea followed him with her eyes, noting his path. She put on her helmet, picked up her cannon, and was about to follow him when a trio of people walked down the stairs from Aria T'Loak's balcony. The leader had the major stopping dead in her tracks.

The woman was short, with red hair, wearing heavy black armour with red and white highlights. A shotgun was held in the small of her back, and a compact machine pistol was attached to her left hip. Doubtless there was a heavy pistol on her right. But none of these things was why she had stopped dead in her tracks.

What stopped her dead was the woman's face. It was covered with faintly glowing scars, probably from cybernetics, but she knew it instantly

It was hers.

* * *

Commander Emily Shepard was still adjusting to being alive. Never mind that it was Cerberus, a terrorist organisation whose operations she had shut down in the past, brought her back, never mind that Collectors were kidnapping humans by the thousands. Just dealing with fact she was a real life Lazarus was hard enough. Yet she was being thrown right back into the action. On Omega of all places. She sighed as she walked into the private room were the recruiter was dismissing the most recent freelancer to sign up at having a shot at Archangel. The recruiter glanced up at her.

"Well well, what have we here," the recruiter leered. "You're in the wrong place sweetheart, the stripper's courters are that way." He gestured down the corridor.

That irritated Shepard, and with everything that had happened recently, she was not in the mood to be tolerant or patient. She drew her shotgun, a lovely piece by the name M-22 Eviscerater, and jammed it in his face.

"Y'know, this shotgun has the delightful name of 'the Eviscerater'. Shall we find out why?" She gave that the batarian what could be charitably called a smile. If it had been on the face of a great white shark.

It had the right effect. The batarian looked suitably cowed, and got on promptly with signing her up. She thanked him sweetly, then turned to leave as he called for the next merc. When the doors swiped open however, they were met with quite a scene.

A small woman was holding a man, barely more than a kid, up against the wall, and threatening him with a raised fist.

"-and if I see you in a merc uniform, I am going to castrate you with a rusty spoon and feed your balls to a Vorcha. Got it?" the woman was saying, in a tone that booked absolutely no objection, although the exact tone was synthesised. Wisely, the kid nodded, his eyes wide with fear, and scampered when released.

"Was that really necessary?" Shepard asked after a moment. The woman turned, and Shepard got her first good luck at her.

The armour she wore was clearly quite heavy. It was made up of dark blue plates, with the areas between being matte black. An odd looking pistol was attached to her hip. What really drew Shepard's attention though, was the weapon on her back.

"I'm sorry, but are you carrying a cannon on your back?" She asked, surprised, and with no small amount of envy. The woman chuckled and nodded. "Where can I get one?" Shepard would later claim that she did not sound like a petulant child, but no-one believed her.

"It's one of a kind," the woman replied with a laugh. She stuck out a hand. "Call me Havoc."

"Emily Shepard," the former spectre replied, taking the proffered hand. "You going after Archangel?"

"In a manner of speaking." That gained raised eyebrows. "You?"

"In a certain way, yeah," was Shepard's response. Havoc stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Give me two minutes." She stepped around Shepard and her team mates, heading into the room.

"Are you sure that's wise Shepard?" Miranda questioned once the door snapped shut behind Havoc. "We have no idea what she is like. She could turn on us the first chance she gets." Shepard sighed.

"Being under my command 101: I trust my instinct. It hasn't led me wrong yet. My instincts say we can trust her."

"But we still know nothing about her." Miranda insisted.

"Lawson?"

"Yes?"

"Shut it."

Miranda huffed but did as ordered.

Havoc joined them half a minute later, and they were soon rushing down into the depths of Omega.

* * *

Kythelea watch Shepard silently as they head to Archangel's base. She was studying Shepard intently. Or more accurately, studying her face. It was identical, slightly glowing scars aside. Same green eyes, same mouth, same nose, Sith spit there was even the same small scar next to one ear. It was downright freaky. Shepard's voice was the same as hers, as well. The only real difference was hairstyle. Shepard's was short, in a much more military cut, whereas Kythelea's was in a loose ponytail when not in her helmet. They were almost a perfect match….

She stiffened. That's what the Rakatan AI had been talking about. It had been searching for a match. And it had found one between her and Shepard. Looking at her, she could understand why. If they wore the same armour and a full face helmet, they would be impossible to tell apart.

But what had caused the match in the first place? Kythelea had never truly believed that the Force existed in the sense that some Jedi did, that of an almost living presence that influenced the galaxy. She had always seen it as an energy field that some could tap into and manipulate. But now, she had to question her old views. If all the Force was was a plain old energy field, than how could she be sitting in the same vehicle as someone who seemed to be her doppelganger?

She was brought out of her thoughts by the speeder touching down. She clambered out, eyes flicking around her, only half listening to the batarian who met them. She began to listen as he described the base. She had to give Archangel credit, he knew how to pick a position. One bridge, little cover. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

"So we are just going to walk into a killzone?" She demanded when the batarian paused for breath.

"Archangel is tiring," he placated, "he's been making mistakes, missing his shots. We're putting together a final plan to finish him. You've arrived just in time to join in the attack. Go find Cathca, he'll fill you in." With that, the batarian walked off.

"So," Kythelea spoke up after a slightly awkward pause, "shall we go see if we can't even the odds a bit?"

"I'm sorry, I don't-" Miranda began

"Cut the crap," Kythelea interrupted, then lowered her voice, "You are here to help Archangel, not kill him. You used this an excuse to get close. So did I, for the same reason."

Shepard shot Miranda a slightly smug look that said 'I told you so'. Miranda glared in return. She looked back at Kythelea.

"You're right. I've got a mission, one that's near suicidal, and I need the best if I'm going to have a shot at succeeding. Archangel is a damn good shot."

"I know," Kythelea put in, "I've seen his handiwork up close."

"You met him already?" Shepard asked, her eyebrows going up.

"He was the first person I actually had a civil conversation with on this station. Couldn't see his face though, he was wearing a helmet." Kythelea shook her head. "Standing and talking won't help him. Let's meet as far forward as we can go in five minutes. That'll give us time to tip the odds in our favour."

"Hang on, who put you in charge?" Miranda demanded. She was irritated. They were trusting a woman they had never met, knew nothing about, and now she had the gall to give orders to them?

Kythelea was getting annoyed by the cat suit clad woman. The raven haired woman seemed to exuded superiority complex, something that reminded her of some of the Sith she had fought. She whirled on her, snarling.

"Listen to me you whining bitch," Kythelea hissed, causing Miranda to take a half step back, "we don't have much time. It will only take one small mistake for Archangel to screw himself over. The longer we stand hear arguing, the greater the chance of him dying. So put a sock in it, pull that stick out your arse, and move." With that, the major span on her heel and marched off.

"Can you please not irritate the woman with the big gun Miranda?" Jacob asked, "we have enough problems as is without you getting into a cat fight."

Miranda nearly turned on him, but pulled herself together. "Let's just get going," she muttered.

"Capital idea," Shepard agreed, and the trio headed forward.

* * *

 **AN:** Wow... Over 100 views and 7 follows. Damn, you guys know just how to warm my heart!

I hope that I got all the Star Wars/Mass Effect race comparisons right. There probably are a comparable race for the Krogan, but the only one I could think of, the Tradosions, didn't seem to fit.

Hope you enjoy this chapter. Next time, we see what happens when our favorite Turian sees double... Should be fun!

Rate, review, and I'll see ya next time!


	3. Between An Archangel and A Hard Place

**AN:** I'm back! Sorry this took a while to get out, but real life decided to slap me around the face, and a bit of writers block didn't help either. Anyway, the first reviews have come in!

 **Mandalore the Freedom:** Thank you so much for the review! I was getting a bit worried that no one like the story!

As you asked, there a few more class explanations in this story. Others will probably come later. Some might even come visiting...

In reference to you asking about Kythelea's armour, she is wearing the Battlefield Commander's armour from the Cartel Market, dark blue primary colour, black secondary colour. I don't know if it is actually meant to be a suit of powered armour, but it looks like it certainly could be, so for this story it will be.

After taking a look at the Houk, I agree, they probably would be a good analogue for the Krogan. Maybe in an later chapter Kyethelea will draw that conclusion, we'll see what happens.

 **Guest:** As you asked, here it is, the next chapter!

* * *

Kythelea was still fuming when they arrived at the forward barricade. That woman drove her up the wall, what with her holier-than-thou attitude and stick up the ass, enough to rival a Sith Lord. She would know, having fought against several, as well as with another two. Those two Sith Lords, both now wielding massive power and expert combatants. One was now known as the Emperor's Wrath, the other as Darth Nox. She knew them as Clayton and Analia Damovich, twin siblings. Physically, both humans were not too dissimilar, both being tall, on the slim side, and very fast, with quick minds. In attitude however, they were as different as night and day.

Clayton had more stoicism than most Jedi, something that you never said to his face for fear of a lightning bolt in response. He was an excellent strategist, and a better swordsman, wielding his red and gold lightsabers in lethal arcs. In his armour and war mask, he was a terrifying sight. Those close to him however were incredibly loyal, as he had earned their trust and respect many times over. He had also gained a softer side since marrying his apprentice, Jaesa Willsaam, something that had led to accusations of weakness from his fellow Sith. Some believed him so weak that they attempted to crash the wedding itself. The story went that Clayton had merely glanced between the Sith and his newly wedded wife, quipped "Free entertainment," and proceeded to cut them down, Jaesa at his side.

In complete opposition to Clayton, Analia never seemed to sit still. She had a grin almost always on her face, and could be so cheerful that it was almost irritating. She seemed to walk with a bounce, something drew the eyes of most men, and no small number of women, when she walked anywhere. Analia knew this, and used it to her full advantage, which often lead to her brother scolding her, telling her to stop seducing every sentient being in view like some common courtesan. Analia would simply pout like a small child, then smile, and carry right on. While she may act flighty though, her mind was incredibly sharp. She could play a political field like a conductor in front of an orchestra, and her iron control of her mind had also led to her Force powers growing to a frightening degree. It rarely mattered than her skill with a lightsaber was merely average, it was rare for an opponent to get close enough for her to need it.

Kythelea had run into the pair when Darth Malgus had declared himself the new Emperor. The Dark Council had quickly gone and denounced him, dispatching their best to take him down. Then they had stopped looking down their noses long enough to, politely, request Republic assistance. Kythelea had been sent at the head of a small strike force made up of SpecForce soldiers and a trio of Jedi, with orders to play nice. The pair of Sith had been surprisingly easy to work with, once they stopped being uptight about having to work with the Republic. Even Forex had stopped calling them Imperial scum long enough to comment on their prowess in combat, and to remark that it was a pity that they were not on the side of the Republic. It had been amusing to watch the Sith tease the Jedi accompanying the strike force. They had parted on surprisingly good terms, as well as invitation from Analia for a private tour of her ship, so they could 'get to know each other better'. Kythelea just about managed to stammer out a polite refusal, to which Analia had simply pouted and told her, sultry wink included, that it was an open invitation that she could take up at anytime. She had been ribbed mercilessly by her squad for a full week afterwords.

She snapped out of her thoughts when someone touched her shoulder. Glancing over, she saw Shepard looking at her curiously.

"What?" She asked. Shepard just shook her head, a half smile on her face.

"I've been trying to get your attention for nearly a minute," she explained. Kythelea reddened slightly at that.

"Sorry, was lost in thought," she said, sounding a little abashed. "You manage anything?" She asked, referring to efforts to disrupt the mercs.

"Screwed up the targeting of a heavy mech, but that's about it." Kythelea nodded slowly. A heavy battle droid that could not shoot straight would be easy to take down.

"That should help," she replied, "come on, let's find Cathca. He's supposed to be by that gunship."

Shepard nodded in agreement, ignoring a glare from Miranda, and followed Kythelea to the gunship. A blue armoured form was crouched by it, a welding tool in hand.

"Cathca?" Shepard asked. The man stood, depolarising his visor revealing him to be a Batarian.

"Sergeant Cathca," he corrected. "You must be the freelancers Salkie mentioned."

"That the guy who met us when we arrived?" Jacob asked. Cathca nodded, then light a cigarette.

"We're just waiting from the signal from our infiltration team. Once it comes through, you and the other freelancers will charge the bridge. You get him, great. If not, we got a few Eclipse mercs who will be carrying bombs. They reach his base, they can be set and triggered. Button press later, and no more Archangel."

"What about the gunship? You fly her, or just fix her?" Kythelea asked. Cathca gave a snort of laughter.

"Fly her? Ha! No, I only fix her. Tarek gets the pleasure of flying her." Suddenly a nearby console squawked. Cathca ran over checked it, then opened a radio channel. "Check. Bravo team! Go go go!" The freelancers behind them began checking their weapons, then they climbed over the barricade and charged towards Archangel, firing as they went. Cathca turned back to them. "That was our infiltration team, you better go join the others. I need to finish fixing the gunship." He polarised his visor once more, and bent down to examine the gunship's innards. Shepard nodded and turned with her squad mates heading for the barricade. She paused when she noticed Kythelea wasn't following. She was about to call out to her, when the assault cannon toting woman scooped up a nearby tool that was cracking with electricity, and strode up to Cathca.

"You're working too hard," she drawled, then rammed the tool into his back. Cathca screamed, writhing as energy arced through him, before he collapsed, twitching. She looked up to see Shepard looking at her, eyebrows raised, eyes slightly wide. "What?" Shepard simply shook her head, slight disapproval on her face, and headed to the barricade. Kythelea looked after her sadly. She wasn't normally ruthless, but she knew that in this place, if someone was in a merc gang, they were probably at they very least involved in crime, if not the direct cause of it. She was doing the world a favour. She drew her assault cannon, check it as it hummed into life, then hopped over the barricade, just in time to see Archangel put a round through the head of a freelancer. Shepard glanced back, grinned, and then cracked her knuckles.

"Come on, let's give them a surprise of our own."

* * *

Shepard drew her shotgun, wrapping herself in a biotic barrier. Her grin turned savage as she felt the power run through her veins, the steady hum of biotics filling the air. Her aura knocked up against both Miranda's and Jacob's biotic aura. She hunched her shoulders, then charged, crashing into the nearest pair of freelancers with a biotic explosion. Her shotgun roared, and a third freelancer found themselves short a head. She turned, and was about a fire on a fourth, when a stream of azure light ripped into him, going clean through his armour. Shepard turned, surprised, as a second stream slammed into another merc, cutting him down quickly. Havoc stood, legs spread into a table firing stance. The trio of rotating arms were glowing as the weapon fired. Despite it's size, Havoc was firing the weapon with ease, seemingly unaffected by any recoil. The stream of death stopped, before Havoc charged forward, reaching the next point of cover. She slammed into it, then spun out, cutting down another pair of mercs.

Shepard stopped gawking when a round hit her own shields. She refocused and blasted the offending merc with a shotgun shell. Miranda overloaded a freelancer's shields, then put a bullet through his head. Jacob got the last freelancer on the base floor with his Avenger, ignoring the freelancer's accusation of treason. He stumbled slightly as Havoc pushed past him, running up the stairs. Shepard heard the whine of the cannon as it opened fire again. It only fired for a few moments before it ceased. Quickly joining her, Shepard drew her pistol, glanced behind her to check her teammates were with her, then opened the door. She moved through pistol raised, then seeing only the turian, she spoke.

"Archangel?"

The turian raised a finger in a universal, 'wait a moment' gesture, then focused on his sniper's scope. A few moments later, it crack out a shot, and the vigilante relaxed slightly. He straightened, then moved so he could sit. He removed his helmet as he did so, and Shepard was momentarily lost for words.

"Shepard," Garrus said, disbelief and shock in his tired voice, "I thought you were dead."

"Garrus!" Shepard exclaimed, disbelief colouring her own voice, "what are you doing here?"

"Not much, just keeping my skills up," Garrus said, then glanced at Havoc, "good to see you too Havoc."

"Nice to meet to you properly," Havoc replied, voice still distorted, "although I believe that you owe me dinner now." Garrus stared at her for a moment, then chuckled.

"Oh I don't know, maybe I'll just offer you a merc base to kill." Havoc shook her head in amusement.

"How'd you end on Omega in the first place?" Shepard asked, "I thought you went back to C-sec."

"I got tired of the red tape, finally quit and came here. To find a criminal here, all I need to do is point my gun, and shoot."

"Speaking of mercs," Shepard said, crossing her arms over her chest, "how did you manage to piss of every major merc organisation in the Terminus systems?"

"It wasn't easy, I had to really work at it," Garrus said, pride colouring his voice despite his weariness, "I kept disrupting their operations until they were madder at me than at each other." His mandibles flared in amusement. "Seemed to work."

Shepard shook her head, a grin on her face. "So what now?"

"Well first off, since we are doing introductions, you could tell me who your friends are."

Shepard quickly introduced Jacob and Miranda, who Garrus greeted with a mix of friendliness and wariness, having recognised the Cerberus logo, then gestured to Havoc. "I don't think Havoc needs introducing, you know her already."

"I do, but since we are removing helmets and giving real names," Garrus looked at Havoc, "care to share?"

Havoc hesitated. For several long moments she didn't move, seeming to internally debate something, then sighed. Placing the cannon on her back, she reached up and, with a hiss, removed her helmet.

* * *

Kythelea debated for several moments with herself when Garrus looked at her, and asked her to introduce herself properly. She knew that they would be shocked. How did two women that looked identical bar a tattoo and hair style end up in the same place, one with contemporary gear, one with weapons and armour that no one had ever seen before. She considered not removing her helmet, not revealing herself to them just yet, then decided that they were going to find out eventually. With a sigh, she placed her assault cannon on her back, then reached up, disengaged the seals on her helmet, and pulled it off. She shook her hair out, ran a hand through it, ignoring momentarily the shocked stares of the four in front of her. She met Shepard's eyes, reading the disbelief in them, then Jacob's, whose eyes mirrored Shepard's disbelief. Miranda's eyes were interesting. The disbelief in them was different, but she could not read it exactly. Then she met Garrus' eyes. The turian seemed to be unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The corner of her mouth twitched up, then she drew herself up, standing tall and proud.

"Major Kythelea Blackstone, CO of Infantry Squad 326, Havoc Squad." Her voice rang with conviction and pride. For several blessed seconds, there was silence.

"Don't all talk at once," Kythelea quipped. That seemed to snap Shepard out of her shock.

"Why the hell do you look and sound like me?" She asked, her expression still somewhat dazed.

"Good bloody question," Kythelea acknowledged, "but one we are going to have to deal with later. Right now," she gestured out the window that looked over the bridge, "there a bunch of angry mercs who need to be taken care of. Let's deal with them, then I'll see about answering your questions."

The reminder of the trio of angry merc companies banging at their door shook them from their shocked and stunned stupors. Shepard glanced back at Garrus, "Garrus, check on them, see what they are doing." The turian moved to the window, aiming down at the opposite barricade through his sniper scope.

"They've reinforced their position," he said, waving Shepard over. "Take a look. Scouts, Eclipse I think." He passed over his rifle, allowing Shepard to peer down the scope. Kythelea glanced down at the barricade herself, then replaced her helmet, zooming in the visor with a tap of a button. A group of light mech had gathered at the edge of the barricade, and behind them was a large group of mercs wearing the bright yellow armour of Eclipse. Beside her, Shepard squeezed the trigger of Garrus' sniper, and the head of one mech exploded into shards of metal.

"One less now, and they weren't scouts. We need to get ready." Weapons were drawn and checked. Kythelea picked up her assault cannon once more, then went to stand at the window. She raised the weapon as gunfire came launching through the air. Altering the angle of the barrel, she fired of a barrage of grenades, decimating the wave of mechs, leaving the last few to be picked off by the combined pistol and rifle fire of the other four. More mechs poured over the barricade, this time joined by Eclipse mercs. The mercs were much more accurate than the LOKI mechs had been, forcing the five defenders to seek cover. Kythelea ducked behind a column, her large weapon making the lower cover by the window less practical for her. She spotted Shepard glow blue as she flung her hand forward, a ball of biotic energy tossing a merc off the bridge and into the depths of Omega, screaming as he fell. Jacob's shotgun barked, killing a merc who had gotten close to the base entrance, while Miranda eliminated mercs and mechs alike with precise shots of her heavy pistol. The major shook her head as Garrus eliminated a merc that was hiding behind the barricade they had crossed earlier. She spun out of cover, just in time to see a loader send out a much larger mech.

"That could be a problem," Garrus spoke grimly, but Shepard just grinned.

"I think our dear friends in Eclipse are in for a surprise." Shepard had barely finished speaking when the large mech turned towards the men, women and mechs vault in the barricade and opened fire on them. Cries of dismay, disbelief and outrage echoed up to the defenders on the balcony.

"I take it that's your work Shepard," Garrus said, his words half a statement, half a question. Shepard nodded in response. They returned their attention to their foe as a rocket smashed into the balcony wall below them, forcing them to step back to avoid the blast. Kythelea took a half pace forward, placed her cannon on the balcony wall, and fired. Streams of azure plasma bolts hammered down into the ranks of the mercs and mechs, leaving a swathe of death behind them. Garrus' sniper picked off mercs with lethal accuracy, each shot finding a home in a head of chest. He glanced up as a lone salarian hopped over the barricade, surrounded in floating orange armour plates.

"That's Jaroth, he's the leader of the Eclipse on Omega." He aimed down the scope, but paused as Shepard placed a hand on his shoulder. "What?"

"Allow me," Shepard said, her lips curved into a smile. She glanced at Kythelea. "Blackstone, cover me." With that, she glowed blue, before vanishing a burst of dark energy, appearing with a boom in front of Jaroth. The blast threw the salarian back, his shields offline and orange armour shattered. His head exploded a moment later when Shepard's shotgun roared. She took a moment to be dramatic, blowing smoke from the end of the barrel of her shotgun, before turning and running back into the base. Kythelea stood on the balcony, weapon aimed firmly down range. It was fortunate that she had. As Shepard was halfway across the bridge, what ever had been done to the mech finished running its course, causing it's IFF it reset to the previous setting. That meant Shepard was now a target. It turned, and began to spool up its chain gun. Before it could Kythelea opened fire on the mech, holding down the trigger for far longer than normal. The machine was pierced through in multiple places by the azure energy bolts. It gave a shudder before collapsing to the ground, then exploding. Shepard glanced behind her, slightly surprised, then looked up at Kythelea and gave her a thumbs up.

* * *

"That's Eclipse death with, and we got Jaroth!" Garrus crowed with triumph. "I've been hunting that bastard for months."

"What he do?" Kythelea asked, resting her weapon against the low wall of the balcony.

"He's been selling low quality eezo to the Citadel for years. Half the stuff we confiscated in C-sec was sent from him," Garrus explained as Shepard rejoined them. "Good to finally see him dealt with."

"So what now?" Shepard asked, reloading her shotgun. As if in answer to her question, there was an explosion below them. Garrus checked his omni-tool and cursed.

"They've breached the lower levels," he spat, "Garm's Blood Pack." Gunfire lanced towards them from the barricade once more, forcing them into cover. More Blood Pack soldiers were pouring over the barricade. Garrus turned to Shepard. "Shepard I need you to seal the shutters in the basement, that'll hold them off long enough for us to deal with them."

"I'll stay here, give Garrus support," Kythelea added at the hesitation in Shepard's eyes. She knew the feeling. It was obvious that the two were very close friends, and that she didn't want him left unsupported. Shepard nodded, then dashed to the lower levels with her squad mates. Kythelea straightened from behind the barricade and opened fire, cutting down Vorcha and Krogan with barrage after barrage of azure death.

"So you finally took me up on my offer to crash here," Garrus commented after a few moments, blowing a hole in a Krogan's headplate as he did so, "took you long enough."

"No idea why," Kythelea replied casually, "you haven't bought me dinner yet." She charged the capacitors on her cannon, blowing a gaping hole in a Krogan's chest with a high impact bolt. The Krogan was thrown back by the impact.

"Perhaps my air of mystique called to you," Garrus teased, taking down another Vorcha.

"Hah! Air of mystique my ass," Kythelea snorted as her cannon cut a Vorcha clean in half, "you have nothing of being mystical and cryptic on my brother. Bastard is quite capable of riddles day in day out, but I love him anyway." _'But he's a Jedi, it comes with the territory,'_ she added mentally, ripping another Krogan to shreds.

"Perhaps I should meet your brother, take some notes on being mystical," Garrus responded, ducking behind cover to reload.

"Stick to the smooth talking big guy, you wouldn't know mystical if it hit you with a rock," Kythelea teased. She plucked a plasma grenade from her belt and hurled it into a crowd of Vorcha, turning them to ashes.

"Ah, I knew there was a reason you were drawn to me," Garrus hummed. He shot a Krogan though the eye, causing it to drop like a sack of stones, "was my voice that haunting that you couldn't get it out your head? You just had to come and hear it some more?"

"It sounds like a rusty gunship engine," Kythelea deadpanned. She swept the last of the Blood Pack off the bridge with a long burst of fire.

"Major, you wound me with your harsh words," Garrus clutched his chest dramatically as he stood. Kythelea just chuckled.

"My heart bleeds for you," she commented dryly. Further banter was forestalled by Shepard calling them over the comm, telling them that the shutters had been closed.

"Good work Shepard," Garrus said, glancing over at one of the doors inside the base. Kythelea followed his gaze and saw sparks shooting from the middle of the door, a clear sign someone was cutting their way through. "You better get back here," Garrus continued, "looks like they're cutting their way through here." He had just finished speaking when the door was forced open by a large Krogan. He roared in rage, shoved the doors all the way forward, then attempted to charge up the stairs to Garrus, but he was cut down by the turian vigilante.

"Leave Archangel to me!" A voice roared. The voice belonged to a massive Krogan, who was in the process of drawing an equally massive shotgun.

"Garm," Garrus spat, raising his rifle. He fired, but the shot was blocked by the Krogan battle-master's biotic barrier. Kythelea raised her own weapon and unleashed a hail of plasma bolts upon Garm, but the shots were absorbed by the blue-black barrier. Her eyebrows went up. This was the first form of protection that she had found that could defend against her blaster cannon. A Vorcha beside Garm gave a yell of rage and stepped forward, raising his pistol. He collapsed like a limp puppet when Shepard appeared from the lower levels, blow his head open with a blast form her shotgun. Gram snarled, but ignored Shepard, directing his men to kill them while he charged up the stairs towards Garrus. The massive Krogan turned at the top of the stairs, Claymore shotgun raised and ready to bring death. He froze, half in shock, half in astonishment.

A tiny woman in blue and black armour was charging towards him, a massive weapon spewing azure bolts at him. Below the barrel glistened a shining blade. Garm chuckled as he began his own charge. This woman had a quad, that was for sure. His biotic barrier ate up the shots, before it finally collapsed just as the two crashed into each other. Garm swung the butt of his shotgun at the woman's face, but she ducked below the blow, even as the bayonet on her cannon rammed into the Krogan's side. Garm snarled in rage. He released his shotgun, and simply grabbed Kythelea, tossing her backwards. Kythelea tumbled head over heels, losing her grip on her assault cannon. She quickly scrambled upright. Just in time to see Garm charging straight at her. He was too close for her to draw her pistol, so she switched to her last resort weapons.

Several months ago, after getting sick of enemies such as Sith Acolytes who she had trouble cutting down at range due to their ability to close to melee range quickly and block her blaster cannon bolts, Kythelea had extensively modified her armour with weapons more suited to engaging an enemy in close quarters. The result was that her gauntlets held vibro-blades mounted on the underside of her wrists, two more vibro-blades mounted on her elbows, and vibro-blades mounted into her boots. Combined with the electro-muscle fibre of the armour itself, she was able to deliver powerful blows in CQB. Coupled with her natural agility and flexibility long honed through training and combat, she was quite capable of holding her own against foes who made it past the unrelenting barrage of her assault cannon.

With a mental flick, the eight inch blades deployed from their compartments, locking into place. Garm barely had time to blink before her right foot lashed upwards. Right between the massive Krogan's legs.

Despite how much Garrus hated Garm for all he had done, even he winced, and subconsciously brought his legs closer together, at the sight of the blow being driven home. Garm's charge was halted. The Krogan's eyes went wide, and he gave a very high pitched, very un-Krogan like, squeak as the blade cut clean through his codpiece, castrating him in a single blow. He dropped to his knees, hands crossed over his mutilated parts. Even with all the redundant biological systems that a Krogan had, it was excruciatingly painful. Kythelea walked around the Krogan, then reached down and picked up the fallen Claymore shotgun. She checked that it was loaded, then moved to stand back in front of the still kneeling Krogan, who looked up at her, pain in his eyes. She levelled the shotgun at his face.

"You weren't worth the effort, or my time," Kythelea snarled, the squeezed the trigger. The Claymore roared, taking half of Garm's head with it. His corpse dropped lifeless to the floor. Kythelea looked up to see the other defenders looking at her with a mix of astonishment, a small bit of fear on the part of Garrus and Jacob, and revulsion. Kythelea just shrugged.

"What? He was annoying me. Besides, I've fought bigger and tougher." She walked off to retrieve her assault cannon. Garrus moved to stand beside Shepard.

"Who the hell is she if she's fought bigger than a Krogan like Garm?" He asked in a soft voice. Shepard just shook her head.

"Hell if I know Garrus. Hell if I know."

* * *

 **AN:** Next up, the Blue Suns. Could be tricky. Kythelea may have stopped the gunship being repaired, but its still a gunship, and it will be packing a lot of fire power...

I'm also going to set up a poll on my profile. I have not yet decided who the Virmire survivor will be, and I want your guys opinions on it. Note that even if Kaidan is chosen, there won't be a broken romance to deal with. Shepard fell for Liara.

If I can, I will also set up a second poll as well. Do you guys want to see other SWTOR characters arrive in the ME universe? Let me know, either in reviews or the poll, if I can get it up.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.


	4. Gunships and Answers (Sort Of)

**AN:** I'm back once more, and with a new chapter! Over 1000 views and 7 reviews! You ladies and gents make me feel so special :D

Now I know I would answer reviews here, but I'm pushed for time right now. **I'm heading on holiday for three weeks today (1st August), and I won't be able to write at all during that time.** Hell finding Wifi will be a challenge!

Once I'm back from holiday, I'll probably change the poll on my profile to a different one, so if you want to vote on who survives Virmire, get over to my profile and vote!

Anyway, thank you all for the reviews! On with the chapter!

* * *

Kythelea was feeling more relaxed as she bent to pick up her assault cannon, placing the Claymore on the other side of her back to where her cannon normally went. All her hurt, anger, loss… All of it was being slowly relieved in this fight. The gang bases she had destroyed before were small fry, no more than a dozen fighters who could pose a threat to her. But this… this was what a part of her truly lived for. The battle, the fight, to feel the drumbeat of war pounding through her veins, to watch as her foes fell before her. It was dark, raw, primal.

And it felt so damn good.

It was their family curse, some might say. Many of her ancestors had been soldiers. Those that were not soldiers were often bounty hunters, such as her sister. A few, like her brother, Aethulwuld, had become Jedi. Those that did often struggled with tempering their aggression, and her brother was no exception. He had to constantly battle against the temptation of the dark side, especially when in combat. He had told her once, when they sat in a quiet cantina on Coruscant, that it was like a seductive voice, constantly whispering in his ear, promising all that he had ever wanted. He had admitted, privately to her and their sister, that it had felt good when had been under the Emperor's control, as he had been able to simply let go. Let his power's run rampant, revel in their 'curse'. If it hadn't been for Kira and the bond that he shared with her…. Well there probably would have been a new Darth of the scene.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by a hand on her shoulder. She straightened and looked over the shoulder. It was Shepard.

"You alright?" She asked, her voice slightly on the soft side. Kythelea nodded in affirmative. Shepard held her gaze through her helmet for a moment, clearly not fully believing her, then removed her hand. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure Shepard. I didn't make major by being a wilting flower," Kythelea said dryly. Shepard's mouth twitched into a half smile, then the two re-joined the others. Shepard gave the others a glance and a small nod. They returned the nod. Things were fine for now.

"So just the Blue Suns," Jacob remarked, "should we make a break for it?"

"We've certainly got the firepower for it," Miranda said, eyeing Kythelea. The SpecForce soldier simply raised an eyebrow, though it could not be seen, as if to say 'problem with that?'

"Now would be the best time to do it," Garrus agreed, "odds are in our favour now."

Kythelea opens her mouth to answer, when a sound causes her to shut her mouth with a click. It's the whirring of engines. The whole group hears it.

"Gunship!" Shepard shouts. The Blue Suns gunship that Cathca had been repairing earlier seemed to glare at them through the open window.

"Damn it I thought I took that thing out already!" Garrus swore. Kythelea dived behind cover before replying, "Well they've obviously fixed it."

"No, I thought that we were being shot at by a flying fish," Garrus responded tartly. He fired a shot at the gunship, but it flew up and out of sight. The shot deflected off the bottom of the craft. Across from her, Shepard swore and levelled her shotgun at the other window. Blue Suns mercs were rappelling in. The mercs levelled their weapons and opened fire, before diving to cover. Unlike the Blood Pack, and even Eclipse, these mercs seemed to have an air of professionalism and discipline that was usually lacking in merc groups. Their gunfire was accurate, and they seemed more co-ordinated.

They were ultimately doomed however. Despite there being only five defenders, those defenders were some of the best in the galaxy, perhaps even the best in two galaxies.

Garrus Vakarian, better known to Omega as Archangel. A marksman with almost uncanny skill.

Jacob Taylor, former Alliance corsair. Perhaps the weakest of the group, but no slouch in his own right, and weakest is a relative term.

Miranda Lawson, a woman genetically engineered to be perfect. An excellent fighter and a biotic to boot, with a will of iron.

Then there were the stars of the show. The two red-headed women who seemed to redefine impossible.

Commander Emily Shepard, N7 Vanguard. A woman who not even death could hold, who had saved the galaxy once already.

Major Kythelea Blackstone, CO of Havoc Squad, one of the finest soldiers in the history of the Republic. A woman thrown from a different dimension into this one, but no less capable.

The chances of the Blue Suns could be ably summed up in the thoughts of one Turian merc, who had enough time to sweep his eyes across the quintet.

'We are screwed'. Then said Turain found there were other things on his mind, namely several pieces of lead as they tore through his head.

* * *

Shepard swore as a barrage of gunfire drove her back behind cover. Ordinarily this would be the perfect fight for her, all close quarters, allowing her to jump around with her biotics and shotgun cutting down those who tried to kill her. This time however, there were too many enemies wielding Revenants, which poured out such a volume of fire that she was forced to remind in cover. Beside her Miranda straightened from behind cover, body glowing blue from her biotics, and slammed a merc into the wall, breaking his spine in the process. Shepard took the oppitunity that the slackening of fire caused. She leapt over the cover, blowing a Turian in half with a blast of her shotgun. Biotics flaring, she transformed herself into a biotic cannonball, slamming into pair of mercs, blowing one off the Windows behind them, the other crashing into the wall. Shepard flicked out her omni-blade, bringing it around the scything arc to slash the throat of a nearby Batarian.

The sheer chaos caused by Sheaprd's charge allowed the others to truly unleash hell upon the Blue Suns. Kythelea unleashed a sweeping barrage of plasma bolts, cutting down three mercs in one fell swoop. A pair of mercs met their end at Garrus' hand, his sniper rifle placing the shots right between their eyes. Miranda tossed one out the building with her biotics, while Jacob blew open the chest of another with his shotgun. The last merc fell when Shepard drew her pistol and blew his heart out.

For a moment, there was quiet.

Garrus took a few steps back, scanning for any more hostiles. He swept the floor below with a practised eye down the scope of his rifle. With a roar of engines, the gunship swept down form above, hovering over the bridge to the merc barricade.

"Archangel!" A voice roared out form a loudspeaker mounted on the gunship. The gun whined as it spun up.

"Tarak," Garrus spat in turn. He span on his heel, but the Blue Suns gunship opened fire first. Garrus stumbled under the barrage of fire, tried to dive for cover. A missile flared into life below the wing of the gunship. It corkscrewed towards the faltering turian, slamming into the floor near Garrus, who lunged for cover as it flew towards him.

He didn't quite make it.

The side of armoured turian was caught clean in the blast, throwing him to the ground unconscious… Or dead.

"Garrus!" Shepard yelled. She rolled into cover next to his body, pulling his unresponsive weight to relative safety. Even her comparatively untrained medical eye could tell he was badly wounded, possibly even mortally so, if they weren't fast enough.

Behind her Kythelea gave a yell of rage. Standing, the cannon wielding soldier unleashed a furious barrage of plasma bolts upon the gunship. It bobbed and weaved, trying out avoid the hail of azure death, but ultimately it was unsuccessful. A dozen bolts connected with the right engine, the one that had been damaged by Garrus earlier. The only half repaired stabiliser blew. Tarak cursed inside the cockpit of the gunship, fighting to keep it level. In the process, he had to stop dodging. This was a fatal mistake. A barrage of HE grenades from the under barrel launcher mounted on the assault cannon tore into the cockpit, reducing Tarak to so many hunks of meat. The loss of control sent the gunship spiralling out of control, and it plunged into the depths of Omega.

Shepard crouched by Garrus, somewhat desperately administering medi-gel. She waited, breath tight in her throat.

Seconds passed….

With a wet gasp, Garrus opened his eyes. His mandibles flared in pain, and he coughed, spitting out blood.

"Garrus!" Shepard cried out. "Stay with me Garrus."

Kythelea dropped down next to the two, Jacob and Miranda on the other side. Pulling off her helmet, the CO of Havoc had concern etched across her face. She gripped Garrus by the shoulder and leant right in to his face.

"You are not dying solider. You hear me? You are not dying," her voice cracked like a whip, making Shepard and Jacob both jump slightly.

"I'll try," Garrus rasped through the blood in his throat. He coughed, and blue blood splattered the floor. Over him Kythelea gave him a half smile.

"You better not. You owe me dinner now, remember?" Garrus tried to smirk and responded to the banter, but he couldn't. He was in too much pain. Outside, a white shuttle with orange and black markings swooped down to the hideout, landing on the bridge. Shepard glanced at it, then picked up Garrus with Jacob's help and rushed him out to the shuttle. Miranda and Kythelea jumped in behind them, although Miranda levelled a glare at the blue armoured woman.

"What are you doing?" She asked/demanded. Kythelea looked at her coolly.

"You want answers about me, I come with you," she said, eyes hard as emerald. Miranda almost protested, but Shepard told her to shut it before she could.

* * *

Kythelea leant against the wall in the mess hall, helmet clipped to her waist, weapons still with her, although her cannon was leaning against the wall next to her rather than strapped to her back. Across form her, sitting at the table, Shepard clasped a mug of caff, or as she called it, coffee. In the med-bay, Dr Chakwas operated on Garrus, trying to keep him from dying. From what they had last heard, the doctor was optimistic about his recovery, but had said that cybernetics would be needed. Miranda had returned to her office, claiming reports needed to be written, but not before trying to get Kythelea to disarm.

The Havoc CO had not taken that well, mainly due to the overbearing, arrogant, presumptuous tone the raven haired woman had taken. She had whirled on the woman with a snarl, and it had taken Shepard stepping between them to stop a full blown fight

"You want it fight, do it after we have Garrus in the med-bay." Shepard was losing patience with the two. She didn't like Miranda particularly herself, but her doppelgänger was taking that dislike to a new level. Kythelea had simply glared at Miranda and marched into the lift, her weapons still firmly in place.

That had been fifteen minutes ago. Kythelea, while tense and somewhat worried about Garrus, was also slightly bored. It was not unexpected, if she was brutally honest with herself. She quite liked the turian, but she didn't really know him, so if he died, she would not mourn that much. Shepard on the other hand…

She looked over at the other woman. Shepard's face was a mask of worry. She obviously had history with Garrus, as evidenced by her reaction upon the vigilante removing his helmet.

"So how do you know Garrus?" She asked, causing Shepard to jump slightly and look up.

"He was on my crew last time around. Good friend, hell of a guy to have at your back," she said, her lips curving into a smile. "Just don't tell him I said that, otherwise his head will get too big to fit through the doors." That caused Kythelea to grin in return.

"So he's on one of those guys huh?" She shook her head, and amused smile on her face. "Duly noted, no complimenting the turian."

Shepard grinned, but it vanished when Chakwas stepped out the med-bay. She looked at Shepard, a small smile on her face. "Garrus will be alright. The surgery was a success, right now he is sleeping off the anaesthetic. You can go see him if you want." Shepard stood setting down her mug and headed into the med-bay. Kythelea followed behind her, but was stopped by Chakwas.

"No weapons in my med-bay." Kythelea opened her mouth to protest, but was stopped by an upraised hand. "I'll make sure no one takes them if that is what you are worried about. I can tell they are unique." Kythelea hesitated, then nodded gratefully and placed her pistol and stolen Claymore next to her assault cannon. She headed into the med-bay herself.

Shepard was standing by Garrus, arms folded over her chest, looking down with a half-smile on her face.

"Just like old time? I'm pretty sure that the old times didn't have you taking a rocket to the face." Shepard shook her head. "Hope those doesn't throw off your aim. Would be a shame if it did, although it would mean you wouldn't steal my kills anymore." Kythelea chuckled beside her, but also felt sad. It reminded her of conversations she had had with Jorgen, who would, once he had relaxed somewhat, tease her, saying she wielded her cannon because it meant she didn't have to aim, just saturate an area in plasma. Kythelea would just tell him to shove it.

She was dragged from her thoughts by Shepard touching her arm. She looked over at the woman, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I think you've got some questions to answer," Shepard said in response to the unanswered question. Kythelea grimaced slightly, but nodded. She knew that this would happen sooner or later, and she did have a lot to explain. But she would not give away all of it. She knew that the Systems Alliance represented humanity in this universe, yet this ship bore none of the symbols related to them. She would tread carefully.

"You got a conference room or similar?"

"Deck two," Shepard replied. Kythelea nodded and headed to the lift, grabbing her weapons as she did so. She followed Shepard in, then through what looked like an armoury. Jacob was standing there, typing at a console. Probably filing logistics reports. He nodded in greeting, before focusing back on his work.

The two women took up positions on opposite sides of the conference room table. They stared at each other, weighing each other up. On the shuttle ride back to the ship, the Normandy, Kythelea had quietly searched up information on Commander Shepard.

It was one hell of a resume. Hailing from Mindoir, she had been there when it suffered its infamous slaver raid. Her father had been killed, her mother, sister and brother taken. She had escaped only by sheer chance. Her family was just another thing that mirrored Kythelea's own past. Her own father was also dead, although he had died in combat with pirates in the Middle Rim rather than in a slave raid, and her mother and siblings were also alive, her mother worked as a doctor on Republic ships. Shepard's own family was still missing. She had gone on to join the Alliance, and become known as the Hero of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz, holding back a batarian invasion force nearly single-handedly.

Then there was her Spectre career, short as it was. Hunting down one of the Citadel Council's top agents gone rogue, and succeeding, was impressive to say the least. Kythelea quietly admitted to herself that Shepard's achievements rivalled, and probably matched, her own.

And she was supposed to be dead to boot.

"So where do you come from?" Shepard asked, breaking the silence. "Cause you sure as hell are not Alliance, and that armour looks far too high-tech to be anything that could have come out of the Terminus Systems."

Kythelea hesitated before answering. "Is this being recorded? I know that whoever you are working for is not the Alliance, and I don't want my information, and my equipment, getting into the wrong hands." The words were spoken with a grimace.

"EDI, disable all recoding devices in the conference room," Shepard ordered, looking up at the ceiling. "If Miranda has a problem with that, tell her to come see me after we've finished in here."

"Yes Commander," came a hidden voice. It sounded female. Kythelea noted it quietly for later.

"Well, I guess I had bette start talking," she said, the corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile. "I honestly don't have all the answers. I don't know why I look and sound so like you Shepard, I can only guess. I've only been here two weeks."

"Here, as in Omega?" Shepard asked.

"Here, as in this galaxy." Shepard's jaw dropped. It took her several moments to process Kythelea's words.

"You screwing with me." Kythelea just grimaced.

"Part of me almost wishes I was. It would make my life so much easier." She shook her head. "I got dumped here by some ancient technology. It activated itself, started scanning my squad. It got to me, declared I was a match for something called a Jump, and tossed me here."

Pause….

"Yeah, it's kinda cliché, I know." Kythelea shrugged. "What can you do?" Shepard just shook her head. She still could not quite get her head around it. Standing in front of her was someone from an entirely different galaxy. Part of her was telling her that Kythelea was lying, that there was no way that it could be true, but her instincts told her that she was telling the truth.

"So tell me about it," Shepard said.

Kythelea did just that.

* * *

 **AN:** I know its a short chapter, and I'm sorry for that. When I come back I may well lengthen it before I post the next chapter.

Next time, Shepard absorbs what Kythelea has said, EDI offers some ideas, and Miranda has a hissy fit... probably.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time


	5. Headbuts, Duels and Airspeed Velocities

**AN:** I'm baaaacckkk! *ducks flying projectiles* Yeah sorry for taking so long. I had hoped to get this out before the end of August, but it simply didn't work out that way.

This chapter is extra long, a little over 6500 words, my longest chapter ever. Its both an apology for the shorter previous chapter and for taking so damn long.

Also, OVER 2000 VIEWS! I love you guys!

Anyway, REVIEW RESPONSES! Well, some of them at any rate.

 **magnusvictor:** one unworried response coming right up.

 **Doominater84:** If you though Clayton was badass after chapter 4, you'll think even more of him after this one! And like you said, it would really weird if Kythelea and Shepard hooked up... *shudders* It would be just like hooking up Shep and Clone Shep.

Anyway, on with the story!

* * *

Shepard stared at the woman across from her. Her mind was still processing everything that Kythelea had said, from details of her galaxy, to the many alien species that existed there. And that was before she even considered the cannon wielding woman's military record. Kythelea had shown her camera footage taken from her helmet of some of the things she had done. They left Shepard shocked. Despite having been in combat many times herself, she had never been in an all-out war. There simply hadn't been one in progress during her life. Kythelea had fought in such a war, despite being a spec-ops solider similar to an N7, she had fought on the front lines, and against massive odds when leading strike missions, such as when she was hunting her former squad mates.

And that wasn't even considering the- what were they called again? Jedi and Sith. Essentially biotics with laser swords who were capable of cutting thought whole companies of men at a time.

It was crazy, and if she didn't evidence of its truth right in front of her, she probably would have called for a psychiatrist.

But then again, she had just come back from the dead herself, so this was probably just par of the course.

"I can see why you didn't want this thrown around." Shepard half grimaced. "Hell I'm having trouble getting my head around it, and I have just come back from the dead."

"I read about that." Kythelea's words caused Shepard to raise her eyebrows. "I did a bit a research on you, both to and from Garrus' hidey hole. I've pulled up quite a few similarities." She began to tick them off on her fingers. "Father dead, a brother and sister, military service, considered to be one of finest soldiers in the last century." Shepard tried to deny that last one, but Kythelea cut her protestations short. "Don't even try and suggest otherwise Emily Shepard. You took down a spectre, considered to be one of the best, while you were the FNG. Few can claim that, even among other spectres."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck, somewhat embarrassed. She didn't like being in the spotlight. Despite being a soldier, an officer and a spectre to boot, she was not a fan of being out in the public eye.

"So what brings the first human spectre back from the dead?" Kythelea asked. Shepard grimaced.

"Collectors kidnapping entire human colonies, then vanishing without a trace." She continued, telling the SpecForce soldier all that they knew.

"Cerberus brought me back to lead what is essentially a suicide mission to get through the Omega 4 Relay and stop them. No ship has ever gone through the relay and lived to tell the tale."

"Well then, we'll just have to do our normal 'defy the impossible' party trick and be the first," Kythelea said with a grin.

"We?" Shepard asked, an eyebrow twitching up.

"What, you think I'm gonna let you fly off without me? Not a bloody chance," Kythelea snorted. "I'm essentially you Shepard, it should have been obvious that I was going to come with you." She shrugged. "Besides, I'm bored of bumbling around Omega. That little shoot out at Garrus' hideout was that most fun I've had in weeks."

Shepard thought for a moment, slightly startled from the reminder that the woman across from her was basically a clone of her, and realised that Kythelea was right. This kind of mission was in her blood, a desperate fight to save the innocent. There was no reason that the dimension hopping woman would be any different.

"I suppose I can't stop you, can I?" She asked, her eyes twinkling. Kythelea just smirked. "Then welcome aboard." Shepard held out her hand, and they shook.

"I'll need to head back to my place, grab some bits. That okay with you?" Kythelea asked. Shepard nodded.

"I've got to go find Professor Solus. Go grab your things and meet us back here," Shepard replied. "Or is your place close enough to come with us?"

Kythelea shook her head. "Mordin is in the quarantine zone, opposite side of Omega to me. I'll meet you back here." She grinned. "Word of warning, he talks faster than a battery of assault rifles, and doesn't seem to know what the words 'pause for breath' mean." At Shepard's questioning look she explained. "He was the one to do my translation implant." Shepard's eyebrows twitched in understanding. Kythelea headed towards the door, then paused and glanced at the N7, a half grin on her face, helmet in her hands.

"Want to bet that Lawson is on the other side of the door?" There was a mischievous tone in her voice. Shepard glanced at the ceiling.

"EDI? Is Lawson waiting outside?"

"Yes Commander. She is pacing, and appears quite agitated," the invisible voice spoke. Kythelea's eyes narrowed slightly, and she tilted her head.

"AI?" She asked.

Shepard nodded warily. "Will that be a problem?" She asked. Kythelea shook her head.

"I had a hard-line patriotic war droid for a squad mate. A ship board AI will be a little easier to deal with." Kythelea slipped on her helmet. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to collect my things, and deal with an insufferable bitch." Her voice took a dark tone. "I'm going to borrow from the Krogan for this." She cracked her neck, then unlocked the door.

Miranda was fuming as she paced outside the locked door of the conference room. She wanted answers from Blackstone, and she wanted them now, but Shepard had locked her out the room, and then ordered EDI to disable the recording devices. Considering how long they had been in there, there had probably been lots of information missed that could be invaluable to Cerberus.

She was cut off from her thoughts when the door finally unlocked. She gave a small sigh of relief and stepped forward to open it, preparing herself to have some stiff words with Shepard.

What she was not expecting was to find herself being yanked forward by the front of her catsuit by a pair of blue armoured hands. She had barely a moment to widen her eyes in shock before her face exploded in pain. The blow came from Kythelea's armoured head, which met the Cerberus Operative's skull like a sledge hammer. Miranda dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, stunned.

"Dress like a soldier, not a slut." Miranda faintly heard a voice snarl above her. Armoured footsteps stalked away. It took a few moments before her vision cleared enough to make out Shepard standing over her. Their eyes met.

"She does have a point y'know." That was all Shepard said before walking away, leaving the raven haired woman gasping on the floor.

* * *

 **Tython – 10 Days Earlier**

Aethulwuld Blackstone was training several padawans in lightsaber combat when Kira came to find him. As a Jedi Battlemaster, he often found himself training padawans and initiates, honing their skills, teaching them the finer points of the swordsman's art. His skill with a single lightsaber was considered to be legendary, especially among the younger padawans and initiates. He wielded his emerald bladed lightsaber with a skill that made it look like a dance, and proving to any who saw him in combat just why he was a Battlemaster of the Jedi Order, as well as one of the youngest Jedi Masters in the order's long history. He could easily hold his own against several lightsaber wielding opponents with his single blade, even if his attackers were all using twin lighsabers or saberstaves.

That he was the one who had killed the Sith Emperor did nothing to lessen their awe.

Despite the fact that he taken down the Emperor, what had really affirmed his place as the order's preeminent swordsman had been his duel against Clayton Damovich. The Emperor's Wrath had contacted him not long after Aethulwuld had been appointed the rank of master, challenging him to a duel that would be broadcast live across the entire galaxy. He had made the challenge after during the middle of a council meeting by hacking the holo-projector with the aid of Cipher 9.

Aethulwuld had accepted of course. Despite being a Jedi, he had a reputation to defend, and he would be damned if he was going to let a Sith get the better of him. He was also unable to deny to Kira later than his pride was on the line as well.

The duel had happened two weeks later, in one of the arenas on Geonosis. Clayton had gotten his sister Analia to use her political pull as Darth Nox to get them an arena for a day, as well as set up the broadcasting equipment required to send the signal out across the galaxy. The combatants had arrived, each with an escort fleet of three capital ships. Members of the crew from both the Republic and Sith ships travelled to the surface to watch the duel in person. Several members of the Dark Council and Jedi Council had arrived to watch. Mandalorian warriors had been hired to make sure that no fights broke out in the stands. They had been paid handsomely, and their jobs had been made clear. Some had grumbled about having to be guards, and missing out on a good fight.

None were complaining after the fight.

The duel had been the stuff of legends. Both Battlemaster and Emperor's Wrath were brilliant swordsman, and the duel had been fierce. Those who were force sensitive could feel the air thrumming with the Force as the duel progressed. Ruby, emerald and gold light flashed back and forth in the arena as the two fought. Neither used any force powers bar enhancing what their own bodies could do, so it was a duel based almost entire on swordsmanship. Through it all, both warriors had traded barbs and quips, almost like old friends sparring, united in their mutual dedication, passion and love of blademasters art.

At one point in the duel, Aethulwuld had been disarmed, his lightsaber sent flying by a particularly powerful blow. The Imperial soldiers in the stands had almost started cheering their champion's victory when the Jedi's fist had shot forward, colliding with Clayton's right arm just inside the wrist. The blow caused the Sith to drop the weapon held in that hand in surprise more than anything, and that given Aethulwuld enough time to bring his right leg up in a spinning kick, sending his armoured foot flying in a blow that nearly broke Clayton's left hand, sending the golden blade flying. The duel then dissolved into a fist fight, with legs, elbows and fists flying in thundering arcs. In this aspect, they were also evenly matched. It was Clayton who returned the duel to one with lightsabers, when he summoned his once more after being knocked back by a powerful kick from Aethulwuld. The Jedi Battlemaster called his own blade to his hand, and once more they clashed.

The duel lasted for a full hour, with both fighters drawing on the Force for strength. The final clash was titanic, Aethulwuld bring his blade around for blows that stuck like hammer strikes, Clayton's swords flashing in a deadly web of energy. The fight had stirred up quite a bit of dust, so the first sign the watchers had that it had ended was when the blades, clearly visible through the dust, went still. When the dust settled, the conclusion of the duel stunned those watching.

Aethulwuld's blade hovered an inch from Clayton's neck, while Clayton's ruby bladed lightsaber was but a hand twitch away from being driven into Aethulwuld's stomach.

A draw.

Silence reigned around the arena. The two swordsman stared into each other's eyes, then, one some signal, unseen by any but them, the blades vanished back into the hilts. The two started at each other a moment longer. The quiet was so thick, it seemed like everyone but the two warriors were holding their breath.

The silence was broken by Aethulwuld. He tossed back his head and laughed. Clayton started at him for a moment, then a grin crossed his face and he started laughing too. The two embraced, and that set the rest of the crowd off. Both sides broke out cheering. It had been a duel for the history books.

What did not go in the history books, however, were the events of the following night and morning. Following the duel, there had been what could only be described as a feast, originally intended to be in celebration for whoever won. Since the duel had resulted in a draw, it turned into a celebration of swordsmanship, then dissolved in a full out party as people got drunk. For years afterwards, Jedi Grandmaster Satele Shan would wonder just how her hair had been dyed an almost luminous pink, despite the fact that she had not had a drop of alcohol to inhibit her senses. Theories would fly over just how Darth Ravage of the Dark Council had ended up dangling by a rope tied to one foot in nothing but his underwear from the blaster cannons of the ship that had carried him to the surface. And that was before people saw the various corvettes and shuttles that had been used to ferry people to the surface had been stacked like cards, with the ones higher up the pile having their repulsor fields on to prevent them crushing those underneath.

It was not noticed until sometime later that the ships belonging to both the Hero of Tython and the Emperor's Wrath were conspicuously absent.

The memories, somewhat clouded by alcohol, had placed a smile on Aethulwuld's face as he trained the young padawans with him today. After all, it seemed that his former apprentice and now wife, Jeasa, had a mischievous streak wider than a capital ship, and Kira was just as bad. The two men had simply shared resigned looks, and tried to make sure things didn't go too far.

Naturally, they failed miserably.

Aethulwuld turned away the blade of the Twi'lek padawan before him, green knocking aside blue, then parried the saberstaff of the Mirilan with a spin of his lightsaber. It was the same blade he had made so long ago, when he was just one Jedi padawan among many. He had modified the internals so many times that it was practically a different weapon. The casing had not changed though, and the crystal had only been changed once, when he replaced the original blue gem with his current emerald green crystal.

Leaning backwards, he dodged the blade of the third padawan, a human. His left hand snapped out, snatching the wrist of the padawan and hurling her into her peers, sending all three tumbling. He gave his lightsaber a flourish before deactivating it and attaching it to his belt.

"Master, you are a slave driver," the Mirilan huffed. Aethulwuld just chuckled.

"Train hard, fight easy. Train easy, fight hard," he said mildly. That was received by groans from the padawans. Aethulwuld just smiled. He had taken a few tips from Kythelea when it came to training.

His attention was diverted when he saw Kira coming towards him. He started to smile in greeting.

Then he noticed her expression.

It was a blank mask. It was an unnatural expression, one that people put in place when they are doing something they really don't want to.

"This lesson is over," he told the padawans, striding towards Kira. They looked at each other, somewhat befuddled, and worried. This was unusual. Aethulwuld was not one to cut his lessons short without _very_ good reason. Then they caught the look on his former padawan's face, and realised that this was indeed serious. They quickly bowed and scurried out the training room.

Aethulwuld met Kira's eyes. "What's going on?"

Kira said nothing, just made a follow me gesture. Aethulwuld frowned but followed her. He was growing increasingly worried. This wasn't like the Kira Carsen he knew. She normally had a snappy comment to make, even in serious situations. They walked into the temple proper, then entered a small room, the kind used to conduct meetings between those not on the council, and occasionally to teach more theoretical subjects. What was waiting for him caused the Jedi Battlemaster to stop dead in his tracks.

A desolate Havoc Squad was in the room, sitting on the table, on chairs, or in the case of Forex, standing in one corner. The droid had no way to show expression, but even he looked like he was grieving. Elara was holding the grief off her face, but her eyes and her force signature could not hide it. The same was true of all the other force signatures of the members of Havoc Squad, all dark with grief and sorrow.

Except one.

The force signature of Aric Jorgan was so full of grief, sorrow and bitterness it nearly knocked Aethulwuld to his knees. So overwhelming was it that it took him several seconds to realise that one signature was missing.

He raised his eyes to meet Jorgan's. He opened his mouth to ask the question that he did not want to, if only in some vain hope that by not uttering the words, they would not be true. He could see the pain in the Cathar's eyes. He knew what the answer would be, but he had to ask.

Finally, into the silence, he spoke on the third try.

"Where is my sister?" His voice was trembling.

Jorgan broke his gaze, looking at the floor, and shook his head.

Aethulwuld felt his legs falter, and he braced himself on the door frame. His expression was shocked.

Kythelea, his older sister, was gone.

He felt arms wrap around him, but he only half felt them as he slid to the floor, his legs unable to keep him upright. A hand was running itself though his hair, a soft female voice was murmuring in his ear. He could not hear the words. He could barely see Havoc Squad through the tears in his eyes. He pulled Kira close, it was her whispering into his ear, and cried into her shoulder, as she continued whispering comforting words into his ear, her arms firmly around him, one hand rubbing his back.

Jedi of all ranks could feel the Force flowing from the grieving Battlemaster. They came to investigate, but were sent away by the other members of Aethulwuld's crew, who had been warned by Kira what had happened. All except T7, who rolled up to his master, twooed sadly, and pushed himself against the crying Jedi. Aethulwuld snaked out an arm, pulling the astromech closer. He sat there, sobs echoing forth, one of his closest friends pressed against him, his love and wife whispering calming words into his ear for a long, long while.

Finally, he dragged his eyes up to meet look at Havoc Squad once more. They were looking vaguely uncomfortable. It was not enjoyable to watch a grown man cry. He wiped away the tears in his eyes, then asked in a quiet voice, "Do you have her last moments?"

Jorgan nodded. He knew what Aethulwuld was asking about. The footage from their armour mounted cameras. He turned and nodded at Forex. The robot understood. Walking over to the holo-projector in the room, he accessed a port in the side of it.

Kythelea's last moments, from the moment they entered the final room, to shortly after she vanished, played out on the screen. It nearly sent Aethulwuld over the edge again. But something stopped him. A small voice in the back of his mind told him to listen more carefully.

"Play it again," he said, his voice slightly stronger, a hint of curiosity creeping in. Forex complied. Aethulwuld listened more intently, pushing aside his emotions.

"Stop!" He commanded suddenly. The image on the screen froze. "Reply the previous three seconds."

The words of the Rakatan AI filled the room

 _"_ _You match the requirements for the jump."_

Aethulwuld looked at Havoc Squad, and cocked an eyebrow.

"We don't have a clue what it means," Elara answered to the silent question. "A Republic science team is examining the device, but they are not really getting anywhere." She ran a hand through her hair. "The only thing that is agreed on is that it is a transportation device of some sort, but to where, we have no idea."

A trickle of hope filled Aethulwuld. "She might be alive?"

Jorgan's mouth set into a hard line. "That's the hope. Nine hells that is our desperate hope." He looked back at the screen. "We were supposed to wait for a Jedi security team before we could leave the station, but I persuaded General Gaza to allow us to come tell you the news in person. The station was secure enough for us to leave it for a short time. Gaza sent a large fleet that arrived just as we left. It would require a full invasion force to take the station."

Aethulwuld nodded. He got to his feet, his face hard. "Looks like I'm on that team then." He looked at Kira.

"The _Chaser_ is ready to go. I sent work up to the docks as soon as I saw Havoc's faces." A grim half smile curled Kira's lips. "I knew you'd want to go." Aethulwuld's own lips turned up in a small smile, and he kissed Kira's forehead, uncaring of who was watching. They had kept their wedding quiet. He knew the crew certainly suspected, and rumours were abound throughout the temple, especially among the older Jedi who had an idea what to look for, but also among some of the younger ones.

That included a scarily perceptive and blunt Twi'lek youngling, all of 7 years old, who had cornered Aethulwuld after a lesson. She was, as it turned out, and empath, a reader of emotions, and even through his mental shields, she had detected his love for Kira when he had met her eyes across the library where he was teaching them about the parts of a lightsaber. She had waited until the others had gone to lunch, check no one was too close, then asked him point blank if he and Kira were in love. He had been caught completely off guard. Trying to deny it had gotten him no-where, so he had finally admitted that they were in love. She had thought for a moment, eyes locked with his, and asked a question that was both simple, and incredible complex.

Why?

It took him a moment to figure out what she meant. Why, with all that he had to lose, did he knowingly break the Jedi Code? He was held up as a model Jedi, yet had broken the Jedi Code in one of its most severe ways.

He had knelt down and looked the padawan square in the eye. "Love is not something you control," he had said, keeping his voice low. "When you fall in love, whether it be quick or slow, only those who do not know the meaning of emotion can resist it. I studied the old Jedi Codes. They did not forbid love. Indeed, they did not forbid emotion." Aethulwuld studied the younglings face as it turned thoughtful. "Without emotion we are little more than droids. How can we do our duty as Jedi if we do not understand emotions that drive people? We must know them ourselves to understand them." The youngling nodded slowly in understanding, her face still thoughtful. "The Jedi Code is right to tell us not to let emotion control us, but it is far more important to know when and when not to let emotion colour your reasoning. My sister is in charge of Havoc Squad. She sometimes has to make hard choices, and she has had to learn the hard way when to use emotion, and when to place it aside."

Aethulwuld placed a hand on the youngling's shoulder. "As to why I love Kira, the answer is simple, and yet complex." He looked the padawan square in her large brown eyes. "Love is the single most powerful emotion known to any sentient race."

"How powerful?" The youngling blurted, then flushed in embarrassment. Aethulwuld held her gaze for a few moments, silently debating, and then put all his sincerity into his voice.

"Without my love for Kira, I would have fallen to the dark side."

The youngling gaped at him, her eyes wide, jaw attempting to reach the floor. "Really?" She whispered. Aethulwuld nodded, his green eyes never leaving her brown ones.

"If I had to choose between the Jedi Order and Kira, I would choose Kira every time." He smiled slightly. "Well, almost every time. There are choices that, if I chose Kira, she would proceed to feet me to rancor." He chuckled. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this conversation. Especially about my near fall. Outside of my crew, only the council know." The Twi'lek nodded seriously. She would keep this secret. "Now, I believe it is time for lunch." He straightened, and left the library, the youngling trailing behind, a thoughtful expression on her face.

He also knew for a fact that the Grandmaster knew there was something between them that went beyond a master-padawan bond. She had caught his arm a few weeks prior, looked him dead in the eye, and said, in a tone that would bend durasteel, to be careful. He had looked at her with a quizzical look and a raised eyebrow.

"You aren't the only one who has fallen in love," she had said quietly, then she had let go and vanished around a corner, leaving him standing in the middle of the hallway, stunned by the implications of his grandmaster's words.

Unfortunately, Aethulwuld's rapid rise had led some of the older Jedi to worry that he was rising too fast. Since his outpouring of grief, a sizable crowd, headed by several members of the Jedi Council had gathered at the end of the corridor, despite the best efforts of Aethulwuld's squad mates to chivvy them away.

And they could clearly see the door way.

So of course, they saw the kiss.

Cue disapproval from the more dogmatic and conservative Jedi.

"I knew it!"

Aethulwuld turned his head sharply, locking eyes with the speaker. It was a Cathar Jedi Master who went by the name of Sanar Tanarman. He was a powerfully built man, as tall as Aethulwuld, with fur that was once a deep brown, but was greying as he aged. He was also very strict when it came to the Jedi Code, some might say he was zealous when it came to following it.

Now though, there was triumph in his eyes. Sanar had returned from a long expedition into the unknown regions, searching for artefacts that could give the Jedi an edge should the war restart. He had left just as Aethulwuld was knighted. The two had butted heads almost as soon as the Cathar had returned, mostly over teaching methods, but also ideals. The animosity had between the two had been growing ever since, and he had become the unofficial leader of those opposed to Aethulwuld. They had suspected that there was something between him and Kira.

Now, they had proof.

"You have broken the Jedi Code on attachment and love," Sanar stated, looking extremely pleased with himself. "You will answer for your crimes." He really did look like a cat who had discovered a barrel of cream.

Aethulwuld just narrowed his eyes, fighting down the temptation to simply drop kick the man down the stairs. He let go of Kira, whose eyes had gone similarly hard. With slow strides, he walked down the corridor until he stopped just five paces from the Cathar. Their eyes were locked. Behind them, the crowd grew nervous, except for Sanar's posse. They were looking pleased.

The pleased expressions faded on all but Sanar's face when Aehtulwuld's crew formed up behind them. Havoc squad had joined them, and their looks promised pain if the wrong things were said.

"If you want to confront me on this matter, fine," Aethulwuld spoke curtly. "But we will do it another time." Inwardly, he was reciting a short poem to prevent himself from completely losing his temper. "Right now, I am needed on a Rakatan Space Station which has teleported my sister to parts unknown." A hint of grief slipped through the latter half of the sentence.

Sanar sneered at him. "You are going nowhere. You will face trial here, and you will be punished accordingly." Behind him, his supporters gripped their weapons. Nearby Jedi, who sided with neither party, were backing away. This could get nasty.

 _Aeth?_ Kira's voice whispered in his mind.

 _Yes Kira?_

 _Grandmaster Shan has vanished._

Aethulwuld smirked inwardly.

"Aethulwuld Blackstone," Sanar sneered, unaware of either their conversation or Satele's disappearance, "you are under arrest for breaking the Jedi Code. You will hand over your lightsaber and come with me to the holding cells, where you will await your trial by the Council."

"On whose authority?" Aethulwuld asked mildly. Sanar glanced to the side, a sneer on his face, as he looked for the Grandmaster and the other members of the Council. His sneer turned to shock as he realised the Grandmaster was not there, and neither were any council members.

He turned back to Aehtulwuld, who had a slight smirk on his face. "Now, like I said, I have to go find my sister."

"Which, the SpecForce slut or the Bounty Bitch?"

The temperature in the corridor dropped to just below freezing.

Aehtulwuld froze. His eyes went from their normal fairly warm forest green, to as hard as emerald. Around them, every single person took in a breath in shock. Even some of Sanar's supporters realised this had gotten dangerous. They quickly backed away. They might have wanted to see Aethulwuld taken down a peg or two, but this was too far.

Aethulwuld meanwhile, was trying very, very, _very_ hard not to blast the Cather through a wall. If looks could kill, Sanar would have simply ceased to exist.

"What," he ground out, in a tone that would have had Beskar snapping from a single syllable, "did you just say?"

Sanar didn't get the hint.

"You heard me," he stated belligerently.

Aethulwuld's face went blank. The shift happened so fast that he did not seem to move at all.

"Captain Jorgan?" He asked, in a tone so mild, he might have been discussing the weather.

"Yes sir?" Jorgan asked. His face was set into a mask of pure fury. The index finger on his right hand, his trigger finger, was twitching.

"You wouldn't happen to know what the airspeed velocity of a laden Cathar is?" Aethulwuld asked, his tone still mild. Sanar just looked puzzled.

"No sir," Jorgan replied after a moment, understanding filling his eyes, clearing away the puzzlement. Aethulwuld nodded.

"Then let's find out."

That was the only warning Sanar had. Aethulwuld drew on the Force so fast he barely had time to blink before a massive wave of Force slammed into him, tossing him flailing down the corridor, out across the atrium, over the top of the massive holocron that floated there, and into the wall. There were several loud cracks as the Cathar fell unconscious to the floor, although whether or not that was the wall or the bones in his body was not certain.

For a moment there was silence.

"Approximately 34.2 meters per second," Forex piped up, breaking the quiet, "a most impressive speed."

"Thank you Forex," Aethulwuld said, a grim smile on his face. He set his gaze on the rest of Sanar's supporters, those who had not twigged that things had gotten dangerous, and raised an eyebrow.

The challenge did not need vocalising. For some reason, none of them accepted it. Instead they hurried over to Sanar, lifted him into the air with the Force, and hurried him away to the med-bay.

"That will come back to haunt us," Kira murmured beside him. Aethulwuld shrugged.

"Maybe, but we will cross that bridge when we come to it." He looked at Jorgan. Jorgan nodded.

"I'll send you the co-ordinates to the station once I get back on the _Comet_ ," the Cathar said without preamble.

Aethulwuld nodded, then winced. "Bloody hell," he muttered. Jorgan looked at him quizzically.

"What's the problem?"

"Niveah," was Aethulwuld's response.

"Aaah…" Jorgan winced.

* * *

 **Rakatan Space Station – Designation: Gateway**

 **Present Day**

Niveah Cadera nee Blackstone was staring at her older brother. Her arms were folded over her armoured chest, her hip was cocked, her weight was shifted onto her left leg, and one dark eyebrow was raised.

Her brother, head and shoulders taller than her, Slayer of the Sith Emperor, squirmed under her gaze. That was not too surprising, since the look aimed at him had cowed Sith Lords.

Unlike her older siblings, Niveah was neither a Jedi or Republic Soldier. This made her something a black sheep in the family, as the rest of the family before her had all served the Republic in one way or another.

Niveah had not, and was incredibly independently minded. At thirteen, tired of her mother trying to pressure her into doing service one day, she had stolen away on a ship bound for Nar Shadda. While she had been found by the ship's crew, instead of being booted out the airlock, either in space or at Nar Shadda, the captain and owner of the ship had given her a place, based on the fact that she had brained one of the crew members with a length of pipe, and refused to be cowed.

The crewman had in question had been a man twice her size, and the captain a bounty hunter.

For five years she had worked and trained alongside the crew of the _Wasp_. At fourteen, she had killed for the first time, although that had been a grabby drunk, and she had been acting in self defense.

At fifteen, she had taken her first bounty. She had succeeded. She had cornered the man, a Zabrak who had consistently failed to pay a debt he owed to a gang, in an alley. She had put a bolt through him at twenty paces. Her first kill in cold blood.

At twenty-one, she had left the crew of the _Wasp_ to join the Great Hunt on Hutta, moderately successful bounty hunter in the own right.

By her twenty-second birthday, she had been named Champion of the Great Hunt, adopted into the Mandalorian People by the Mandalore himself, into his own clan, survived a Republic sting operation, become the Galaxies Most Wanted, and completed a Bounty on the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.

She hadn't told her family of that last one. She doubted she ever would.

Right now though she had more important things to worry about. Namely, making brother squirm with just a look.

There was also her missing older sister to deal with.

Niveah had been pissed when she had discovered what had happened. So pissed in fact, that she had flown to the station in question, having traced the call, to get face to face answers. She hadn't told Aethulwuld she was coming though, and as such she had started to run the blockade around the station, and had been succeeding before he had gotten the cruisers to stop firing.

"So let me get this straight," she said, a slight drawl in her tone, "Thea got caught in a Rakatan machine after meeting some kind of condition, and got transported to parts unknown."

"Pretty much," Aethulwuld said. The two were in the hanger bay, which was now rather full with three corvette sized ships parked in it. Niveah had point blank refused to land on one of the cruisers. She still had enemies within the Republic, for obvious reasons. It was probably only Aethulwuld's presence that was stopping her from getting into a firefight. Even so she was getting glares from some of the Republic Marines

Niveah stared at him, then facepalmed. "What is it with you Republic and Jedi and touching things you should not?" Aethulwuld raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'and you are any better?' Niveah huffed and conceded the point. "Anyway, I'm no ancient tech expert, and neither are my crew." She gave him a look, and smirked. Those who knew Niveah knew that that particular smirk meant either trouble… Or mischief.

"But I do know one, probably the best in her field." Aethulwuld opened his mouth to ask who, then realised who his sister were talking about. He immediately went white.

"Oh no, not her," he said, a pleading tone in his voice, "anyone but her." Niveah's smirk turned into a full on grin.

"Too late. I already called her." She laughed at Aethulwuld's expression. "Look at it like this…" She leaned in close and whispered in his ear. He jerked back like he had been stung, his face going scarlet. Niveah laughed, her deep blue eyes sparkling.

"Why not? You would probably enjoy it, and Kira might-" She was cut off when Aethulwuld placed his gloved hand over her mouth.

"No, Niveah," he said empathically. His face, if it was possible, had gotten even more flushed with blood. He leaned in closer. "I am not having a threesome with Analia Damovich. Clayton would probably kill me." He made a face. "And that's assuming Kira doesn't get me first." Niveah's eyes twinkled at him over his hand. She took a step back, removing it from her mouth.

"She should be here sometime tomorrow. I suggest," and here her voice turned dryer than Tatooine, "that you warn the fleet. I doubt she will want to run a blockade."

"That's your own fault for not warning me and you know it," Aethulwuld pointed out tartly, but he activated his holo terminal anyway. Niveah just smirked, then walked back to her ship. Her face grew pensive as she did so. No matter how much she teased her siblings, she did love them, and she was worried for her sister. She punched in the entrance code, then slipped inside. Torian was waiting for her. He didn't say anything, just wrapped his arms around her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. She sighed after a moment, then buried her head deeper into his shoulder, letting him run his hand through her black hair.

"This is going to be long one," she murmured. Torian hummed in agreement. She gave another sigh, letting her implacable bounty hunter/Mandalorian mask slip in the arms of her husband.

"You need to stop worrying," Torian finally said. He pulled back slightly. "You always worry too much." Niveah huffed and rolled her eyes, but did not dispute him. "I know how to make you stop worrying." She frowned, giving him a curious look. Her frown vanished when he kissed her, long and slow.

"That could work," she said, a smirk on her face, they finally paused for breath, "but you're going to need to try a little harder if you _really_ want me to stop worry." Torian gave her a smirk of his own, and scooped her into his arms.

* * *

 **AN:** Ta da! Quite a lot going on in this chapter. Miranda gest punched, again, we learn a _lot_ more about the Hero of Tython, we learn a little bit about the Greatest Bounty Hunter in the Galaxy (currently), and we learn the airspeed velocity of a laden Cathar. Sanar is my own character, and he is only really around to make a point.

One does not simply insult the members of the Blackstone family. At least not within earshot of Aethulwuld. He gets... irritated.

But as to why Niveah can make her brother squirm like that? It's not simple.

And what did Analia Damovich do to Aethulwuld?

In terms of ages, Niveah is 23, as stated, Aethulwuld is 26, and Kythelea is the oldest at 31. Shepard and her siblings will, for reasons that should be obvious by now, be the same age. Assuming Shepard's brother and sister are still alive...

I should also say, I won't be writing Mordin's recruitment mission. Quite honestly, I don't find it that interesting a mission, and I want to get off Omega.

Cookies for the person who guesses where I got Aethulwuld's name!

 **Challenge :** The name Blackstone is a reference to a book series I read and really enjoyed. The first person to guess correctly which series will get a prize! What that prize will be I am not yet sure, but it **will** have an influence on the story.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.


	6. Drink Solves Everything, and Krogan CQB

**AN:** Ta da! New chapter!

Thanks to all those who reviewed.

First off, the Challenge! So far, no one has gotten it right. You guys are thinking a little too literally. It is not a direct copy of a name, at least for Blackstone. One person, who you will discover as I do the answers to reviews, got quite close with where I got Aethulwuld's name from, but it was not to be.

Good luck, and keep guessing!

Some good news! This story may be educationally sanctioned! Here in the UK, you can do something called an Extended Project Qualification, or EPQ. It's normally aimed at those wanting to do something like an in-depth historical study, however, the English teacher at my college is looking at the requirements to see if this can be done as one! I may get to do this as school work. Whoop! Nothing is confirmed, but hopefully...

While I remember, if you want to stick ideas in reviews, or via PMs, feel free! I'm only one brain, and you come up with a brilliant idea. If I use an idea, I'll give you credit. Just remember it is by prerogative to use an idea or not. No hissy fits because I didn't use your idea.

Now, Review Responses!

 **Belph'gor:** I'm glad you're enjoying this! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

 **Doominater84:** Good to hear you enjoyed the duel :). And yeah, no Sith fleet has been jumped, the machine cannot send something that size. Something smaller though...

 **Dekuton:** I did not know about the Keldabe Kiss! XD Let's assume that Niveah did not tell Kythelea about that particular move.

 **Eye of Sparta:** 32.4 m/s is still 72.48 mph (116.6 kph)! That's not slow! Also Aethulwuld is a swordsman first and force wielder second. Sure, he's fairly powerful, but unlike the Barsen'thor (Jedi consular), he is nothing particular special in this area.

 **DES Guest:** You got the right time period of Aethulwuld's name, but the wrong film/tv show/book. Better luck next time

 **Highlord:** Satele Shan and the Blackstones are not related. Sorry, but that would probably lead to a really confusing family tree!

 **The Sithspawn:** Glad you like the story. Regarding the family connections, to be honest, the Legacy system is in SWTOR for a reason. Why not exploit it? Plus family drama can be fun :D

 **Guest since ch1:** You can't have been since chapter 1! My first review was in chapter 2 XD. Anyhoo, glad you like my use of the Legacy system. I'm sorry to say that it is unlikely that any of the companions will make the jump. The only ones who might are Torian, Kira and _maybe_ Jorgan. Torian and Kira would not want their significant others going alone if they have any safe, and Aric will jump at any chance to get to Kythelea. Pun not intended :3

Now then, on with the story!

* * *

Kythelea finally agreed with the mental voice that was telling her that her life sucked when she found herself wrestling Krogan clones inside a scrap heap of a ship.

But then again, was it really new to her?

The depressing answer was no.

She scrambled to her feet, vibro-blades ejecting from their slots as the Krogan charged her again, having discarded its shotgun in favour of a length of metal girder.

"Come on runt! Make my day!" She roared at the Krogan. The Krogan roared in response and charged.

 **Several hours earlier**

Kythelea was relaxing in the cargo bay, tinkering with her cannon, when Shepard came to see her. She had claimed a sizeable portion of the hold as hers, shifting crates to form a square room that held her armour and weapons in a secure locker that she had 'liberated' from a gang hideout, as well as the few possessions that she had picked up on Omega in a footlocker. Mostly a few books and casual clothes, but also a set of speakers that were currently playing music.

She glanced up when someone knocked on the crates next to the makeshift curtain of a door, which was in fact a tarp borrowed from the ships supplies. Shepard was peering into the makeshift room.

"Shepard," Kythelea greeted her, "was wondering when you would come on down." Kythelea had returned before Shepard had, which was why the room was already set up. Shepard grinned slightly as she stepped into the makeshift room, glancing around.

"Nice little place you've made for yourself," she commented. Her gaze shifted back to Kythelea. "Let's hope that we don't need any of those supplies anytime soon."

"Ah well," Kythelea smirked. "Just don't send Miranda down." Shepard winced and nodded. Miranda was normally ice cold by most people's standards, but now she had gone so cold people were surprised that there wasn't a trail of ice where ever she went. The glares she had given Kythelea on the few occasions could have stopped a Sith Lord dead in their tracks. All in all, quite impressive.

The first crewman to joke about sexual tension would be fed to a Thresher Maw, alive, after having every bone in their body broken in at least three places.

"How are you settling in?" Shepard asked. Kythelea couldn't help but chuckle. She had said very similar things to her new crew mates when they had been recruited into Havoc Squad. She noticed Shepard's raised eyebrows, and the slightly quizzical look that came with them.

"I said very similar things to all my new squad mates," she said, somewhat wistfully. She glanced down at her cannon, then back up at Shepard. "Honestly, it was good to finally be able to tell somewhat about it all. Having all that and not being able to tell anyone…" Kythelea shrugged. "It weighs on you."

"I understand. Sort of," Shepard said, stepping into the room proper. "I'm trying to figure out how to tell Anderson. Guy was like a surrogate uncle to me."

"Anderson? As in the Human Councilor?" Kythelea asked. When Shepard nodded she hummed in appreciation. "Friends in high places or what?"

Shepard laughed, but it was touched with bitterness. "Yeah, but it's my fault that a military man is being forced to play politician. He'll never admit it to anyone but I'm sure there is a part of him that doesn't like me for making him take up the job."

"You'd be surprised I think," Kythelea said gently. Then she grinned. "I'm sure that he will get you back eventually." She did not know just how prophetic those words would be. "Anyway, enough doom and gloom. Where are we headed?"

"Planet called Korlus. We're going to pick up a Krogan Warlord, who is also a scientist, called Okeer. Fought in the Krogan rebellions. He's had dealings with the Collectors, so we're hoping that he can tell us more about why they want Humans."

Kythelea tilted her head in thought, and for a moment, Shepard felt her head spin. It was the exact same head tilt that she had when thinking. But was it really that surprising?

"I'm guessing he is going to be one arrogant bastard," Kythelea said, snapping Shepard back to her. "He's probably going to have a serious chip on his shoulder." The SpecForce soldier's lips curled into a grimace. "I spoke to Patriarch on Omega, and if those two are anything alike…" She trailed off, but nothing more really needed to be said. Shepard had met Patriarch, on a quick jaunt to tell Aria that the quarantine zone was being cleaned up, and to hand over some information on a coup planned by the Suns, Blood Pack and Eclipse after they had dealt with Garrus. Of course, it never happened due to all three organisations being truncated during the firefight at Garrus' hideout.

Shepard straightened from where she had been leaning on the wall. "I need get back to my rounds, but I thought you'd like to know, I heard from Chakwas that Garrus is up and about."

"Good to hear," Kythelea said, closing up her cannon and standing. She was still wearing her armour, more out of habit than anything else. Her helmet lay on the bed. "I need to go talk to him." Her face had become more somber.

"What's wrong?" Shepard asked, noticing Kythelea's face.

"When I met Garrus, he had a squad with him. Him and eleven others. Yet they weren't there when we went to get him. There can only be one reason why." Kythelea's face had set itself into a mask. Shepard nodded in understanding.

"Good luck with that. Knowing Garrus, he will probably blame himself," Shepard said, her voice quieter. Kythelea grinned at her.

"I've got a good method for stopping self blame."

* * *

Garrus paused in his calibrations of the Normandy's main gun when he heard the door open behind him. He turned around, expecting to find Shepard, but was somewhat surprised to find it was Havoc.

 _No, not Havoc,_ he corrected himself, _Kythelea. Kythelea Blackstone._ As he took a moment to study the other woman, he felt he understood just why Kythelea and Shepard were so alike. Some sort of gut instinct told him they were almost the same person. The more rational side of him told him that there probably was a story behind everything. He quietly determined to hear it later.

"Blackstone, good to see you again," he said, looking down at her. Both she and Shepard were shorter than him by several inches.

 _Yet Shepard did a far better job then you ever did at leading people,_ the nasty part of his mind whispered. He shook off the thought as Kythelea looked him square in the eye.

"What happened to you squad?" She asked quietly. Garrus looked down at his feet. Or at least, he tried. It's quite hard to do that when you have a plated crest in the way. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, armoured arms wrapped around him. He looked up, surprised.

Kythelea had pulled him into a hug.

Before he could properly react she had released him and stepped away. She looker up at him, a small sad smile on her face. "You needed that."

"Yeah….Yeah, I suppose I did," Garrus said quietly. Kythelea pulled up a pair of crates to act as seats, pushed him gently onto one, then sat on the other. From somewhere, and for years after he would claim that she had pulled them from thin air, she pulled two bottles of brandy. Well, one bottle of brandy and one bottle of a dextro equivalent.

"Tell me how they died," she said simply, handing him the dextro bottle. Garrus grimaced, but accepted the bottle.

"You sure this is a wise time to do this? We've got a mission coming up soon," he stated. He ordinarily would not object, but they were going to arrive at Korlus in five hours."

"This isn't the first time I've done this Garrus," Kythelea replied, a wry smile curling her lips. "Some of the messes my brother and sister got into need three bottles each to clear. One of them needed five." She shrugged. "Course, we were completely pissed by the end and slurring every second word, and we nearly died by alcohol overload, but he admitted, once we had gotten over our hangovers, that he felt a lot better."

Garrus' eye ridges were attempting to climb off his face. "Five," he said flatly. "Five bottles of brandy."

Kythelea nodded, a grin on her face. "Brother dearest has some neat methods for dealing with alcohol." In other words, he got Kira to heal his liver with the Force. She didn't comment, just gave him an exasperated look while Aethulwuld looked suitably sheepish. She shook her head, then sobered and met his gaze. "We're getting off topic."

Garrus sobered as well. He sighed, stared at the floor. "It was my own damn fault. O-"

He was almost knocked sideways by the blow. Kythelea had lunged forward and delivered and open handed slap to the uninjured side of his face with her armoured hand. Her expression had not changed, bar raised eyebrows.

"Want to try again?" She said simply.

* * *

It took most the trip to Korlus and the whole bottle of Turian Brandy, but Kythelea finally managed to stop blaming himself. At least, vocally anyway. She didn't doubt that part of himself still blamed himself, but if he wasn't going to voice it, then it was a step in the right direction.

When Garrus said he had been betrayed by one of his own squad mates, Sidonis, Kythelea had gone deadly quiet. Her own experiences with Havoc's original members, before she had rebuilt it, flashed through his mind.

"When you find him, tell me," she had said quietly, fire burning in her eyes. "Then, we will go hunting."

"Shepard will want to know," Garrus had pointed out, "She has a thing for helping people."

Kythelea shook her head. "Shepard doesn't know what it is like to be truly betrayed. I do." Their gazes locked, and mutual understanding passed between them. Shepard would learn nothing. Not until it would be too late to do anything about it.

Kythelea still had two hours to kill when they finished their talk, so she went up to the cockpit. She had yet to meet Joker, having arrived by shuttle in the cargo bay, and hadn't been up to the cockpit yet.

The lift doors slid open, and the entire bridge crew held their breath. Miranda was standing outside the lift, waiting to head down to her office after having spoken to Jacob regarding logistics. While few people knew her name, everyone knew that the blue armoured woman with the cannon and the catsuit wearing Cerberus operative practically loathed each other. As happens in a small ship, it had gotten around very, very quickly.

The two women locked gazes. The temperature on the bridge dropped to a few degrees above absolute zero.

"Lawson," Kythelea spoke first, her tone cool.

"Blackstone," Miranda responded, her voice just as cold.

There was silence for several seconds.

Finally, Miranda stepped into the lift, heading down to her office. The room returned to normal temperature Kythelea ran an hand through her hair, then headed up to the cockpit to meet Joker. The pilot glanced up at her when she stopped just behind his chair.

"So you're Blackstone huh?" He asked, his eyes flicking up and down.

"No, I'm Bluerock," Kythelea deadpanned. Joker laughed.

"I like you already."

* * *

Kythelea checked over her weapons once more as the shuttle sped down to the surface. She had enjoyed bantering with Joker, and laughing as he regaled her with funny stories from the first Normandy. She didn't leave the cockpit until Shepard called for her over the comm, ordering her to the hanger. She bid Joker goodbye, noticing that his eyebrows had furrowed. She could tell gears were working over in his head, processing the similarity of voice, and probably similarity of appearance between her and Shepard, but she left before he could draw any conclusions.

"So what are we looking at down there Shepard?" Garrus asked, his Mantis resting across his knees as he checked the scope. He was the third member of the squad. Jacob was also with them, rounding out the team at four. Miranda and Mordin had not come. The former claimed that she had received some intel that needed her immediate attention, and that may have been true, as apparently she had seemed distracted. Mordin had been in the middle of an experiment, so was unable to come either.

"Okeer is in an old Krogan transport ship, and by old I mean before the rebellions old. He's surrounded by Blue Suns, but it's more of an alliance than a true partnership," Shepard said, checking over her helmet. Kythelea had shoved it into her arms, with a comment of 'A bare head is an easy target once your shields are gone.' "What he is doing for the Suns is unknown, but he _was_ listed as a Krogan scientist, so I doubt it would be good."

"Two words you won't expect in the same sentence," Jacob commented, a wry smile on his face. The former Alliance Corsair was carrying three weapons compared to his normal two, a Vindicator, a Carnifex, and an Eviserator. He was also wearing proper armour, having heard Kythelea's words to Miranda about armour. Cerberus Assault Armour to be precise. There had been only a single set on board, designed, fitted and intended for Shepard, but she had point blank refused to wear it. When Jacob had asked what they were going to do with it then, it had been almost thrown at him, and he was told, in no uncertain terms, to either replace it or send it into a star. He had sighed, then set about altering it for himself, figuring he may need it. He had finally finished the alterations in time to reach Korlus.

"Indeed," agreed Shepard, "but from the intel, it probably isn't inaccurate for once. He might not be seen as a scientist by most people, but he gives it a good shot."

"So long story short, we are recruiting another mad scientist, expect this one has anger issues instead of a motor mouth," Kythelea deadpanned. Shepard paused for a moment.

"When you put it like that, pretty much." Kythelea sighed.

"Yippee."

The shuttle door slid open, and the squad quickly spilled out onto the surface of Korlus. Shepard and Jacob were up front, shotguns drawn. Kythelea was just behind them, helmeted, the accelerator on her cannon spinning. Garrus was at the rear, Mantis drawn and loaded.

They were met by a female voice spouting nonsense from a loud speaker. Kythelea had immediately groaned.

"Another one who loves the sound of their own voice." Her voice seemed genuinely pained.

"They have them at your end too?" Shepard asked, amusement in her voice. Jacob and Garrus looked between the two, confused

"This isn't too bad honestly. Some of them…" Kythelea shook her head. "Let's just kill them before the voice annoys me too much." She strode forward, taking point herself muttering under her breath. The others followed, Jacob and Garrus still confused.

They began to have more important things to worry about when a Blue Suns patrol opened fire on them. Kythelea took a quick pace back with a curse as weapons fire raked her shields. She quickly raised her assault cannon and opened fire, an azure hail of death cutting down a turian. Shepard added her own contribution, blasting the head off a merc who had been lifted out of cover by Jacob. The last merc, a human tried to run. Garrus lined up a shot on him, crosshairs aimed at his skull, before Shepard quickly called out.

"Wing him Garrus." Garrus nodded, altering his aim before pulling the trigger. The merc fell with a cry, but began to crawl to a nearby wall. Shepard gave him a thumbs up, and they approached the merc, who was a) cowering in fear and b) not actually hurt that badly. Garrus had put the shot into his hip. High enough to really, really hurt, but nothing medi-gel wouldn't fix.

Still, a few dramatics wouldn't harm their chances.

"Now then," Kythelea purred as they approached, "I'm pretty sure you know how this works." She placed her cannon on her back, and hunkered down infront of the merc. "You tell us what we need to know…" Her right hand drift near the fork of his legs. "Or…" She ejected the blade on her right arm. It stopped, just as she intended, about an inch from his armour. No more needed to be said. The merc went utterly still. Any sane man would.

"First things first, who is the bitch in love with her own voice?" The merc looked confused for a moment, then realisation dawned.

"That's Jedore. She's trying to create an army of Krogan deeper in. She's on a full blown power trip," the merc gritted out. "Before you ask, I don't know how. I just kill those that are deemed 'unworthy'." The merc hissed in pain.

"Considering what's going on here," Shepard said, her arms folded, "I would have thought there would be more security."

"We're here to dissuade pirates and scavengers, not take on commandos!" The merc spat, before cursing under his breath as he aggravated his side. Then he froze as his radio squawked.

"Outpost 4, we heard gunfire. Is there a group of Krogan there?" It was clearly someone higher up the chain, but the voice was male. Not Jedore. Kythelea twitched her hand, drawing the merc's attention to her blade once more.

"There's nothing here." The merc hesitated for a moment, then complied.

"This is outpost 4, last group dispersed."

"Dispersed? Jedore will be pissed, she wanted a show," came the reply.

"Don't blame me, I'm just the messenger. The last group dispersed." The radio remained quiet.

Kythelea patted his check, withdrawing her blade. "Good boy, now go find somewhere to hide, unless you want a Krogan to find you before you bleed out." The merc went pale once more, and stumbled off, muttering and cursing as he did so.

"Do you think he knows it's not that bad?" Jacob asked. Kythelea snorted in response, drawing her assault cannon once more, before heading deeper in.

* * *

Kythelea raised her assault cannon, unleashing a barrage of grenades on the makeshift battlements above them. Screams rewarded her as mercs were either blown up or blown off the wall. Garrus' sniper barked, and a merc armed with a rocket launcher toppled headless off the wall. Shepard was, somewhat grumpily, shooting at them with her pistol. Her shotgun didn't reach that far. Jacob added his own firepower, each accurate burst would, at the very least, force a merc into cover.

The last merc fell, a neat hole in their skull. The team stopped and took stock. They were in a dead end, but the path they were on lead nowhere else.

"Where do we go now?" Garrus asked, looking at Shepard. Shepard looked at him, and was about to answer when a screech of metal on metal caused them all to turn, weapons rising. A sheet of metal twice as tall as Garrus shifted in protest, then toppled to the ground. From the gap, a Krogan stepped forward. It did not draw it weapons, despite the clearly visible pistol and shotgun attached to its armour. Instead, it looked at them, arms hanging by its side. It shuffled forward, seeming to peer at them, but made no threatening moves.

"Who are you?" Shepard demanded. Her shotgun was aimed steadily at the Krogan.

"…You…You are not of this world." The words were a surprise. "Seven cycles I have waited. Something urges me to speak to you." Glances were exchanged, and weapons cautiously lowered, but not holstered.

The following conversation left Kythelea fuming.

Cloning. Okeer was cloning Krogan, and this was one of those he had rejected. It was only 7 days old, and knew almost nothing. It could speak, but it did not understand many things. It did not even have a name.

She was still fuming when the Krogan ambushed them. Well, perhaps ambushed was the wrong word, but they were certainly blindsided by the massive aliens. Seven of them charged around a corner, cannoning towards the squad. Kythelea raised her assault cannon, cutting one down, then the others were on them. Shepard blew open the chest of one with her shotgun, before getting pile-drived by a second. Kythelea pivoted to assist, but before she could fire one of the Krogan slammed into her, knocking her to the ground and sending her cannon flying.

She scrambled to her feet, ejecting her vibrio-blades as the Krogan charged again, having discarded its shotgun in favour of a length of metal girder.

"Come on runt! Make my day!" She roared at the Krogan. The Krogan roared in response and charged. Kythelea didn't stay still, she lunged forward herself. She could feel the primal beat of battle roaring inside her, the rage of her family rising to the fore. Her heartbeat was like a war drum, pounding in her ears. The electro-muscle of her armour hummed as energy coursed through it.

The Krogan raised the girder and brought it around in a scything diagonal arc that, if it connected, probably would have broken Kythelea's shoulder and upper arm. Kythelea saw the blow coming, and was able to duck to one side. Her right leg slammed out as she did so, bladed boot connecting with armoured knee. Kythelea was nearly flattened by due to the momentum of the Krogan, but the Krogan was knocked flying. The girder flew from its hands, but it quickly scrambled to its feet. It raised its arms just in time to block a high kick from the SpecForce soldier. Kythelea's foot dropped rapidly, causing the Krogan's attempt to grab her leg to miss. Her right arm came swinging around in a roundhouse punch. The bladed arm slammed into the Krogan's side.

The Krogan snarled as the blade dug deep into its side. It swung its arm out wildly. Kythelea's head was snapped backwards as the armoured elbow slammed into her forehead, stunning her. Moments later, she was flying through the air as the Krogan tossed her away. She barely had time to recover and roll away from the retrieved steel girder. She scrambled to her feet, feeling somewhat foolish and angry at herself as she pulled out her blaster pistol. The holographic sight on top flickered on as it felt Kythelea's hand wrap around the grip. She raised it quickly and snapped off a shot. The green energy bolt smacked into the Krogan's chest, causing it to stumble back. Kythelea took proper aim, and fired again. The bolt cracked open the Krogan's chest piece, and it howled with rage. Its howls were silenced when a third bolt blew open its chest, and it slumped to the ground.

Kythelea holstered her pistol and hurried over to her cannon, checking it over for damage. Apart from a few scuffs it was fine. Kythelea glanced up, just in time to see Shepard finish a Krogan by throwing him onto a protruding steel girder with her biotics. The girder pierced the Krogan clean through. A quick look around showed that the other Krogan were dead.

"A Krogan ambush," Garrus said rolling his shoulders, "not something you see every day."

"True," Jacob said, reloading his shotgun. He cricked his neck. It was not without good reason that Cerberus operatives said that you started out of shape with the armour, and got in shape just by using it. He could already feel his muscles beginning to tire. Just a little, but it was still there. He glanced over at Kythelea as she rubbed her head, muttering in a language his translator wasn't picking up. "You okay?"

"I got elbowed in the face by a Krogan," she said with a glare, "Of course I'm okay, gar talyc utreekov!" She marched away, leaving Jacob standing there, blinking in surprise. Garrus looked over at Shepard.

"Why is she so like you?" He asked her. Even behind the helmet that she wore, he knew she had a slight grin on her face.

"You'll have to asked her yourself." Shepard turned away, and hurried deeper into the ship. Garrus and Jacob exchanged a look.

 _Women._

* * *

 **AN:** Well, this was fairly busy. Kythelea has made herself a room, Kythelea and Garrus are _already_ getting drunk with each other, and Kythelea has promised to help deal with Sidonis.

Oh, and Kythelea and Miranda still hate each other. That's going to go on for a while...

If you're wondering why I've cut/altered some in game dialogue, quite frankly, none of the bits mentioned are of real importance. When it matters, I will copy direct from the game, but otherwise, as long as we have the gist of it, does it matter if it ain't perfectly accurate?

You'll also see a bit more of Jacob than you would probably find in most stories. He tends to fade into the background most of the time, and though I sorta get why, I think he needs a little more time in the spotlight.

Next time, the squad meets Okeer. Sparks will fly. Grunt gets 'birthed' (maybe). Maybe we'll head back to the SWTOR universe. We'll see.

Rate, review, and I'll see ya next time!

 **EDIT 18/9/16:** Translation for the Mandalorian

Gar talyc utreekov - You bloody idiot.

You may also notice that Kythelea's put down of Miranda has gone. That is in response to **aDarkOne**. He (or she) pointed out that I have been character bashing someone who is, in their words, one of the baddest bitches in ME. And they are right. While I won't go back and edit _al_ _l_ the chapters, as Kythelea and Miranda don't like each other with fairly good reason, I can edit this one. Thanks for catching things before they went too far!


	7. Okeer's A Little Queer (He's not Gay)

**AN:** Hello again! Hope you have been waiting eagerly, the next chapter is here!

Did you know, this story has almost 5000 views! You guys have no idea how much this means to me!

Now as to update schedules, I'm going to aim for two chapters per month, or a chapter a fortnight. That should give me enough time between school and life to get chapters of this sort of length done.

 **Challenge:** No one has yet to guess the right answer, for either the origin of Aethulwuld's or where I got Blackstone from. Keep guessing...

Anyway, enough talking from me. On with the show!

* * *

It was the Blue Suns that received the majority of Kythelea's irritation. Her cannon left a trail of bisected, or a few cases, trisected corpses through the derelict ship. Not that she did all the work. After all, she had a top notch marksman, an N7 Vanguard, and a former Alliance Corsair who was also a biotic on her side. The four of them cut through the Blue Suns like a knife through hot butter. It was only when they reached the top level that things got tricky.

Jacob was on point as they rounded a corner. He leapt backwards with an almighty curse as a hail of fire poured through the door way, nearly knocking Kythelea onto her backside.

"How much did you see?" Shepard asked, coming up behind them. Garrus loomed over them all, placing his Mantis on his back, drawing the Vindicator attached next to it.

"Not much," Jacob admitted. "There are at least three with machine guns, I'd say there are up to another dozen standard grunts. I'm pretty sure I saw someone with a rocket launcher, and another with a sniper. Sniper looked weird through, had this rig around his right arm."

There was a brief pause as they all took this in. In all their previous encounters with the Suns this mission, they had either caught them before they had set up, midway through them setting up, or they had the fire power to simply blow through. This time it seemed, they would need to think hard.

"EDI, is there another way around?" Shepard asked.

"Negative Commander, not unless you want to backtrack extensively," came the reply form the Normandy's AI. There was a pause as they all thought for a moment, then Shepard opened her mouth once more.

"Joker would also like me to inform you that a strafing run from the Normandy would be unfeasible. The ship would not survive the impacts in its current state," EDI added. Shepard slummed slightly. Behind her, Garrus chuckled.

"He knows you all too well Shepard," he said, amusement clear in his voice. Shepard glared at the Turian from behind her helmet.

"Okay, so if we go around the corner, they will tear us to pieces," Kythelea said, bringing their attention back to the task on hand. "So isn't it obvious what we do?" The other three looked at her in puzzlement.

"No it isn't, not really," Jacob said slowly.

"Yes it is."

They turned to look at Garrus, and they could almost see the feral grin behind his helmet. "The forward path is blocked," he continued, "we can't go backward. So," here he paused for effect, "we go sideways." He pointed just behind them.

Confusion faces slowly shifted expression. They became grins. Kythelea cackled.

* * *

Hartman was the man in charge of the Blue Suns gun line. He was old for a merc, having been a member of the Blue Suns for nearly fifteen years. He would have been in command of this operation, if not for the fact that Jedore was the one to come up with it in the first place.

God he hated that woman. Not because she had been placed over him, but because of her damn attitude. She had a superiority complex to rival that of the Asari. Then he reconsidered. It would be cruel to compare her superiority complex to an Asari's. Cruel for the Asari that is. It drove him mad.

He let his eyes shift over his gun line, a mental note of approval passing through his head. The commando team assaulting them had only poked their heads out once before driven back. That had been 10 minutes ago. He didn't order the gun line to move however. This was just about the only way to the labs, presumably their target. Even if they did come another way, Hartman was confident that they would be able to reposition in time to intercept them. His men, and two women, were good, all ex-military, unlike a distressing amount of mercs with minimal military training that seemed to fill the system these days.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a clang of metal nearby. He snapped his weapon up, eyes scanning around for targets. His team did likewise.

Nothing.

A second clang broke the silence. Where was it coming from?

Hartman frowned. He pointed to two men and gestured forward. They nodded and moved slowly forward, weapons carefully trained on the corner. Pausing by the corner, they readied themselves to dive back around if they were met by fire.

They lunged around the corner, weapons snapping left and right, scanning for targets.

No one was there. They turned back to their commander, and shook their heads.

"Nothing here sir."

Hartman grimaced, restlessness creeping up on him. What on earth was going on?

Fifteen minutes passed where nothing happened. The gun line began to relax somewhat due to the lack of action since the metal clangs. They did not break the gun line. They knew the commandos were still around. They could only relax entirely when they were dead or gone.

Unfortunately, their lives were numbered in minutes.

* * *

"If we survive this Garrus I am going to kill you."

Garrus just chuckled at Shepard's words. They were currently suspended along the side of the derelict ship, attached to its side by rappelling gear. The hooks were attached to a point high above them, digging into the side of the ship courtesy of the launcher's they had located in a Blue Sun's armoury. Apparently they had been used to get aboard the ship when, on several occasions, the mercs had been forced to pull back all patrols into the ship and block access to all entrances. Doors were, after all, not guaranteed to stop a Krogan. Even the ones built by Krogan in the first place.

"Try doing this on Omega. Now _that_ was a good time," Garrus said, speaking over the closed circuit comm link between their helmets.

Pause.

"Did you do a window breach?" Shepard's voice came back. It sounded slight put out.

"We did indeed," Garrus said, his voice carrying an edge of amusement. Despite being one of the most lethal soldiers in the galaxy, there was a part of Shepard that had never really grown up. It was the part that had dragged Liara to a pet shop to coo over puppies, blind-siding the rest of the squad entirely, who had been left standing in the middle of the Citadel, looking slightly awkward, while their commander cuddled the baby animals with her girlfriend. She had cheerfully acknowledged this when he had asked her about it in the mess on the SR1, saying that it made things more interesting to look at things from a child's perspective at times. He hadn't really known what to say in response, and she had left before he could untangle his tongue.

"Door breaches are more fun though," Kythelea chimed in from where she was climbing behind Shepard. The two women were on one rope, Jacob and Garrus on the other. They were fairly certain that none of Blue Suns knew where they were, but EDI was watching them like a hawk. Just in case.

"Oh?" Jacob asked. "Why so?"

Kythelea grinned, "It was hilarious to watch Forex charging in, guns blazing. He sounds like a zealous aristocrat." Her grin faltered as she thought of her team. She wondered how they were doing, whether they had been reassigned.

And who had told her siblings? Her mother?

"Who's Forex?" Garrus asked. Kythelea was silent for a moment, before responding simply.

"A good friend." Her tone discouraged questions.

They finally reached the top. Luck had it so they appeared behind a set of crates that held supplies yet to be stored away. They were also behind the gun line. Shepard and Kythelea shared a glance, then grinned.

"Garrus, pick your target, then wait for us to get ready." The order was a quiet one, despite the fact that they were on a closed circuit. The rest of them moved closer as Garrus withdrew his Mantis and took careful aim. He swept his scope slowly over the gun line, before selecting the woman wielding a rocket launcher.

"On your go Shepard," he murmured. A few moments passed, then Shepard looked at him and nodded. He set his eye to the scope.

He breathed in.

He breathed out

A hearts beat pause.

The rifle cracked, the bullet slamming clean through the helmet of the merc. The mercs threw themselves on the floor, instinct racing ahead of conscience thought, trying to find cover above all.

It did them no good. Kythelea spun out from cover and laid down a hail of blaster fire, killing three of the mercs in as many seconds. Jacob opened up with his Vindicator, cutting down one of the machine gunners. Shepard placed precise bursts from her M-25 Hornet through the heads of mercs. It was the only piece of Cerberus manufactured gear she used willing, and only after Jacob had shown her that it was an excellent weapon. Fitted with recoil dampeners and a high calibre barrel, she was forced to admit he was right. Swapping to her shotgun, she launched herself in a biotic charge, slamming into a trio of Blue Suns, who were blown off their feet by the force of the charge. Her shotgun barked three times, killing the three before they could recover. She dropped her right hand, drawing her Carnifex pistol, keeping a hold of her shotgun with her left. She raised the pistol, spinning out of cover. As she did so. She swore and leapt back to cover as the sniper fired. A deep gauge was carved in the ship panel she was hiding behind.

"Heads up, that sniper is using a god damn Widow!" Shepard said, her heart pounding in her chest. That rifle would probably have punched clean through her shields and armour in a single shot.

"A Widow? How is his arm still in attached to his body?!" Garrus exclaimed.

"Must be that rig Jacob spotted," Kythelea put in.

"No other explanation," Shepard said grimly. She didn't risk poking her head out. That was a one-way trip to heaven. She was rapidly assessing ways of dealing with him when Kythelea spoke up.

"Shepard, I'm going to draw his fire. Get ready," Kythelea said. She placed her cannon on her back, and crouched ready to sprint.

"You sure? I don't know how strong your shields are, but there is a good chance that they will just do nothing against that rifle," Shepard said, worry clear in her voice.

"Who dares wins," Kythelea said, grinning to hide her nerves. "On three."

As she said three, Kythelea burst from cover, sprinting towards a large piece of ship, one that had once housed a defence turret. She almost made it when she heard a loud gun shot.

Pain crashed through her left leg. She swore in Mandalorian, then Huttese, as she toppled to the ground. The shot had gone through her shields, then the less well armoured shin plate, before cutting through her muscle. It was only sheer luck that it didn't hit the bone, else it would have shattered it. She rolled over, propping herself up her elbows, yanking her pistol from its holster. The sniper had been forced back by Shepard, but she hadn't been able to quite get the kill shot before he had ducked back. When he stood again, he was met by a face full of green plasma. Kythelea slumped backwards as the merc toppled to the ground, missing the side of his face thanks to the powerful blaster. She holstered the pistol, once again thanking Niveah for getting it for her. She pulled a Kolto injector from her belt as Shepard hurried over.

"If you say I told you so," Kythelea warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Shepard said sarcastically. "How bad?"

"Just muscle, sheer kriffing luck is the only reason that shot didn't shatter by bone." Kythelea swatted away Shepard's arm as she lent down to apply medi-gel. "I got Kolto, I'll be fine." Accepting the other woman's help standing, she tested her leg. She cursed under her breath in Huttese as the pain flared again, but her leg held. She also realised that she was going to have to figure out a way to fix her armour. It had held up well to most mass effect based weapons, but this one had cracked the shin plate. That was going to need to get fixed.

"Hurts, but I can still fight," she said, looking over at Shepard. She pulled her cannon off her back once more. "Come on. Let's get Okeer and get off this damn planet."

* * *

Kythelea chuckled as the Asari ran out the room. Rana Thanoptis, as the woman introduced herself, had run into Shepard before, and after telling them that she had disable the cameras, quickly bolted, with a comment about things exploding around Shepard. Shepard looked slightly put out as she checked the room over for useful supplies, before heading into the lab.

A Krogan was hunched over a console, his armour clearly old and battered. He looked up as the squad entered.

"It's about time," he growled, "the batteries on these tanks will not wait while you play with these idiotic mercs." Kythelea raised an eyebrow.

Shepard narrowed her eyes slightly. "I take it you're Okeer. You don't seem particularly caged or grateful that I'm here."

"You may claim to be here to help, but the formally deceased Shepard is not a sign of gentle change," Okeer said with a grunt. Shepard twitched in surprise. It seemed that even a slightly made Krogan scientist had heard of her.

"Surpised?" Okeer asked, turning to them at last. "All Krogan should know you. I'm sure Rana has already revisited your actions on Virmire." Kythelea glanced at Shepard with a questioning look. All that she had been able to find on Virmire is that Saran had had a base there. Shepard had destroyed it, but not without losing a squad mate.

"I didn't have a lot of room for finesse," Shepard bit back. "If there had been another way I would have taken it."

"But I approve," Okeer said, and that approval was clear in his voice. "Saren's pale horde were not true Krogan." He waved a hand. "Numbers alone are nothing. It is the mistake of an outsider, one that these mercenaries have also made." Okeer turned away from them, walking to the window behind him. He spread his arms, gesturing at the tanks below them. "I gave her my rejects for her army. But she grows impatient." He lowered his arms. "It's time for you to take me out of here."

"The Collectors are just a little more important I think," Kythelea said. Okeer glanced at her, a slight frown on his face.

"I see," he said slowly. "Yes, Collector attacks have increased. A human concern." The last words were dismissive. "My requests were focused elsewhere." He motioned at the large silver tank next to the console he had been typing at when they arrived. Inside, was a large, silver armoured Krogan. He looked younger than any other Krogan Shepard had seen. "I acquired the knowledge to create on pure soldier. With that, I will inflict upon the Genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffer. To be ignored." He seemed to relish the last sentence.

Shepard nearly growled. It was clear that this was zealot, not someone she generally wanted on her team. But Cerberus would not have given her his dossier if he would not have bene useful. She swallowed her protests and grated out. "Your methods are extreme-" She ignored Garrus saying 'Just a little' over the comms "-but you know how to deconstruct a threat. Will you help us?"

Okeer thought for a moment. "Perhaps I can strike a deal to secure passage. But my prototype is not negotiable. It is the key to my legacy."

Kythelea was fighting back her own growl and harsh words at this point. This Krogan reminded her of so many Sith, only caring about being known long after they died.

All of them, Krogan and human alike glanced up as the loud speakers crackled into life. "Attention. I have traced the Krogan release. Okeer of course." It was Jedore. Kythelea hefted her cannon, instincts telling her they were headed for a fight.

Okeer stomped over to the window, looking out at the tanks below. He gave a small snarl as he spotted Jedore.

"I'm calling blank slate on this project. Gas these commandos and start over from Okeer's data. Flush the tanks."

Moments later, there was a distinct hissing sound as gas began to flood the chamber. Okeer looked around, a furious expression on his face.

"She's that weak willed," he snarled, "she'll kill my legacy with a damned valve." He spun, and looked hard at Shepard. "Shepard, you want information on the Collector, stop her. She'll try to access contaminates in the storage bay." He pointed at the door behind them. Shepard regarded him for a moment.

"You could just start over like she will, what's the big deal?" She asked

"This tank is pure, and it involved as much trial as data," Okeer stated firmly, turning back to the silver tank. "Starting over will not duplicate it. It must survive." His voice took a heavy tone. "Jedore will be with the rejected tanks. Kill her. I will stay... and do what must be done."

Shepard nodded, drawing her shotgun and marching towards the door. The rest quickly followed. Kythelea took one last look at the Krogan scientist as he stood, hunched over his legacy. For a moment, she felt pity. She had read the dossier about Okeer. He had been alive during the Rebellions, had fought in them. He had had to watch his race suffer under the Genophage.

For just a moment, he truly looked over a millennia old.

"May your gods go with you, whoever they are," she said, not quite knowing why. Okeer, glanced up at her, surprised, but she had already gone, the door closing behind her. He stood there, in his lab, the gas slowly filling the room. He stood there, and thought about the last time that the Collectors had contacted him.

They had spoken of a stranger. Someone who wielded weapons unlike any seen before, and would seem out of place. They knew that the person was here, and that if he saw that person, he was to send them a message. They wanted this person, for some reason. The blue armoured woman fit that description. He moved to his console, preparing to record his last message to the Collectors, to tell them of the woman.

Then he hesitated.

Something buried deep inside him, buried deep since the rebellions, stirred. Something deep inside his heart, that only one being in his life had ever touched. It was a small voice, a voice that spoke quietly, yet persistently.

It was a voice asked him, for perhaps the first time in his long life, to do a simple act of good.

In the end, he recorded a different message. One to Shepard, saying that he knew nothing of why the Collectors wanted humans.

As he fell to the floor, gasping and choking on the gas, his last thought was a simple one.

Someone, for the first time since long, long, long ago, had shown him simple kindness.

* * *

Kythelea gunned down another Krogan, just as it raised its shotgun to blow her head open. She grunted, feeling pain beginning to flare in her leg once more. Kolto was great, but it was no match for proper medical treatment. Something that she needed right about now. She was probably going to be on bed rest for a few days after this.

Gritting her teeth, she straightened. There was a heavy YMIR mech that had been keeping them supressed, its chaingun and rocket launcher keeping their heads down. Kythelea was determined to take it down, since she could bypass its shields with her cannon.

Unfortunately, she chose the wrong moment to stand. The mech was looking right at her. It raised the arm with its rocket launcher and fired. Kythelea's eyes widened behind her helmet, and she dove to one side.

Or at least, she tried to.

Her leg chose that moment to give up. She crashed down onto one knee, cursing with panic. A half moment later, the rocket smashed into her.

It was only the fact that her shields were at full charge, and her armour locking up under the blast wave, a feature she had ensured was installed to lessen the impacts of telekinetic force powers, that meant she survived. As it was, she was tossed into the wall by the explosion.

A screen tore from her lips as the felt her bones snap. The part of her mind that wasn't blinded by pain noted that her HUD told her which bones were broken. Several ribs, one arm, both upper and lower, and her collarbone. As her vision went dark with, unconsciousness setting in, she felt a familiar touch.

A touch through the force. One she recognised.

' _Aethulwuld?'_ She thought weakly, as the darkness claimed her.

* * *

 **Rakatan Space Station – Designation: Gateway**

Aethwuld was using a time honoured method used by Jedi to locate his sister.

He searched with the force.

It required immense amounts of energy, in this scenario anyway. It would have been outright impossible without the help of Analia Damovich, who, he was quite ready to admit, was far and away more powerful with the force than him. For once, she had been business like, although her eyes had been sparkling in a way that made him nervous, and Kira had been sending glares her way every so often.

The Sith Sorceress had not come alone either. She had brought not just her inner circle, those who had joined the crew of her ship, the _Fallen Angel_ , but had arrived aboard one of two Sith cruisers. With the cruisers, had been a quintet of frigates, and a science vessel rounded out the small Imperial Fleet that now sat in orbit on the opposite side of the station. The message was clear. The Republic _could_ try and destroy them, but they would get a bloody nose by doing so. Analia, or Darth Nox as she was better known as now, had said none of her soldiers would start an incident. So far, she had been right. In fact, the science teams had, once the question of who they reported to had been resolved, hit off very well, finding common ground in studying the artefact that had sent the CO of the most respected Republic SpecForce squad off to parts unknown.

Currently, all the force users on both sides were in a chamber not far from the room housed the artefact. Aethulwuld and Analia sat in the middle, as they were the two focuses for the search. Analia was providing a fair chunk of the power, while Aethulwuld was doing the searching. Kira was sitting behind him, Scourge next to her, along with the other Jedi of the security team, adding their own power to the search. Behind Analia sat Ashara, a former Jedi padawan turned Sith Apprentice, and Xalek, Nox's newest apprentice, as well as some Sith Acolytes. They were on loan from several other Sith who wanted their acolytes to learn about Rakatan technology, and learn how to utilise the force better, as Nox's force mastery was famous, or infamous. It depended what side of the wall you were.

Aethulwuld frowned slightly as something caught his attention. They were next to the artefact in an effort to follow Kythelea's path through the force. Even if she had been taken to the other side of the galaxy, she would have left a trail in the force, as true teleportation, whereby someone was moved from one point to another without travelling through any of the intervening space, was impossible. There had indeed been a path.

A path that seemed to perform an odd twist. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the path performed a twist, corkscrewed, performed a backwards somersault while juggling on a high rope.

 _Do you recognise this?_ He asked Analia. They were closely linked through the force at this moment in time, in order to better facilitate the search.

 _No. Never seen it before,_ came the reply after a short pause. Aethulwuld's frown deepened

 _Should we follow it?_

 _If we want to find your sister, we have little choice. Besides,_ Analia said, her tone going dry, _she still hasn't taken me up on my offer. Neither have you._

 _And I never will,_ Aethulwuld shot back. He ignored the chuckled the reverberated through their mental conversation. He focused back on the path. Taking a breath, he pushed through.

Almost at once, he felt like his insides were being pulled in every direction. He gritted his teeth, forcing his way through. The energy drain through the force skyrocketed, even as he felt something familiar, faint, but familiar.

 _Hurry up,_ he heard Analia snarl. _Even I can't keep this up much longer._

Aethulwuld reached towards the familiar point, following the path through an area that stank of base emotion, into the emptiness that could only be space, to what he assumed was another planet. He located the familiar point, one of several signatures. From the way they were moving, they were fighting.

He froze, astonished.

One of the signatures was most definitely Kythelea. He had touched his sister's force signature enough times to know it instantly. A small part of his mind noted that she was in extreme pain.

What made him freeze was a second signature.

He pulled back, along the path, through the gut wrenching twist, into his own body. He doubled over, the edges of his vision going dark as he tried to recover his strength.

"Why did… Why did you pull out like that?" Analia asked from where she sat across from him.

Aethulwuld looked at her. "You know no two force signatures are the same? Even with identical twins, they are slightly different?" Analia nodded. His next words nearly put her jaw on the floor.

"I found Kythelea, but I also sensed a second force signature. It was exactly like my sister's."

* * *

 **AN:** Oh dear.. Kythelea is in trouble. A rocket to the face is not fun. Well, it was the shoulder, but anyway. And how did the Collectors know about Kythelea? Wait and see...

Back in the SWTOR universe, they ain't giving up. Now I know that some of you might be a little unhappy with the Jedi and Sith effectively reaching thought dimensions with the force, but I wanted a way for them to confirm that she was still alive from their side, and could think of no other way.

As to how Kythelea knew that Aethulwuld had reached out to her with the Force:

1\. It's her brother. He has used her Force to contact her quite a few times, so she's learned to recognise it.

2\. As I stated in an earlier chapter, the Blackstone family has produced a number of Jedi in the past. There is bound to be increased Force potential in the family. Even those who are not actually Force sensitive, such as Kythelea and Niveah, will be more attuned to it, comparable to Mirilan. They cannot manipulate it, but they are more sensitive than most non force users to it in their surroundings, and to others using it.

I should note that this was not why I said the Blackstone family had produced Jedi in the past. I pretty much came up with the above point nearly on the spot

Anywhoo, its late, here, so I'm going to be going.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.


	8. Painkillers and A Few Pointed Questions

**AN:** Annnnd we are back! No long waits for this chapter... I think this one is out within my two week deadline, sooo... Yay!

 **IMPORTANT:** This is the last chapter where the Virmire survivor poll is still up on my profile. When the next chapter is posted, it will be taken down.

 **Review Responses** : Just the one today.

 **Highlord:** Well ain't that lucky! I thought there was something like that, but I wasn't certain, so I decided to be safe and clarify it.

Now, on with the show!

* * *

Shepard sat in silence as Chakwas worked on Blackstone, Mordin helping her. Modern medicine would ensure that she would likely survive. It didn't stop Shepard from being worried. Kythelea had taken a rocket to the shoulder after all. Her entire left arm had been almost shattered, her collar bone was in a bad way as well.

Oh, and her broken ribs had poked her lungs as well. They hadn't been punctured, but it was a close thing. A matter of about half a centimetre, apparently. And that wasn't including her damaged leg form the Widow shot.

Chakwas was certain that anyone else, at least anyone short of a Krogan, or maybe Shepard thanks to her extensive cybernetics, would have been kill in the blast. Kythelea's armour had saved her life. It had locked up under the intense pressure wave of the blast, preventing her from becoming a living rag doll. According to the small onboard computer, that for reasons unknown to the rest of the crew would only respond to Shepard, the vast majority of the blast had been deflected by the armour's shields. The bone breaking had been largely down to Kythelea being thrown into the wall of the ship. The shields could stop the pressure from harming her, but it had been unable to stop it from tossing her into the air.

Speaking of the armour, Jacob had taken a look at it after they had gotten the major out of it, watched over by Shepard. Miranda had wanted to be there as well, supposedly just to watch, but Shepard had barred her, seeing passed her words, saying that she did not want anyone getting scans of the equipment without Kythelea's say-so. It was her gear, she had a right to know who was being done to it. Miranda had protested, but backed down when Shepard pointed out that Cerberus doubtless had experimental weapons and experimental armour, and how would they like it if someone from an outside organisation had taken scans of it without their permission?

Miranda had grudgingly conceded the point.

Jacob had watched the argument, so when Shepard turned around, he spoke first.

"No scans unless Blackstone says so." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "I really don't want her to do to me what she did to Garm." Shepard had laughed at that.

As for the armour itself, it was a highly advanced form of powered armour. It came in several sections. A tight fitting black bodysuit, the bottom most layer, which they had removed through a series of zips and clasps rather than cutting through, uncertain what it was made of and unwilling to risk extra damage if they could help it. It was thin, with several connection ports that lay under the armour plates. Then came a slightly larger, quite a bit heavier, bodysuit that went over the first. This one was thicker, and had semi flexible, lightweight, almost scale like armour at the joints. Both bodysuits covered the entire body below the neck, including the feet and hands.

On top of this went the armour plates. About the only parts of the body that were not covered by the heavy armour plates were the joints, and even then they were often at least partly covered by nearby plates. Several pieces of heavy duty armoured tubing wrapped around the chest and back plates, meeting at a cylinder that was, as far as they could tell without scan, a mix of a power source and life support system. There was also a utility belt, with a few grenades attached, but they didn't go through the pouches. Death by accidental activation of explosives was not on the cards today. A pair of heavy gauntlets and the helmet finished the armour off.

One thing that had caught their attention was the lack of Eezo. Due to the way that biotics work, those that had them were sensitive to biotic fields and emissions, if they were large enough. The armour _should_ have had a power core that they could sense, after having seen what it was capable of, but there was nothing.

At any rate, that was what Jacob had said when they had finished examining the armour. He had shot Shepard a look, one that said 'I'm pretty sure you can explain this', but Shepard had simply said, "Not my place to tell." Jacob had frowned but nodded. He placed the armour in a locker, locking it after him.

Shepard's head snapped up as Garrus exited the room that housed the main battery. There was a look on his face that she could not place.

"How is she?" He asked.

"Chakwas is optimistic last I heard. All the bones are setting in the correct places, and we used some of that green liquid that Kythelea injected herself with. Seems to be helping." Shepard shrugged. "Not much we can but let them work." Garrus nodded, the strange look still on his face. He opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it again. Shepard raised her eyebrows in an expression that plainly said 'what?'

"Why is she so like you, yet different at the same time?" Garrus finally asked. "Her attitude is almost exactly like yours, same sense of humour, you could be identical twins with a little effort." He met Shepard's gaze. "Yet she wields weapons that I could only described as laser or plasma, wears armour unlike any I've seen, speaks in languages that don't get through our translators. And there was your comment at the beginning of the mission. Something about her having 'the same at your end'."

Shepard held Garrus' gaze. "Like I said on the mission Garrus. If you want answers," she motioned with her head towards the med-bay, "you will have to ask them yourself. Her tale isn't mine to tell." Garrus huffed, then headed towards the lift. He had a destination in mind, even if he shouldn't really go there.

Blackstone's makeshift room. He was going to try and find some answers.

* * *

He was half way across the cargo bay when EDI interrupted him.

"I would not recommend this course of action Mr Vakarian," the polite, slightly synthetic voice echoed from the ceiling. "It would be an invasion of Major Blackstone's privacy. In any event," here EDI's voice took on a tone that could only be called wry, "I do not think you would like the Major's response if she were to discover your trespass."

Garrus sighed. EDI was right, he knew. Kythelea probably would kick his ass, judging by how similar she and Shepard were. He also knew that this was, as EDI had stated, an invasion of her privacy. It was also slightly creepy, a man rummaging through a woman's things, but it wouldn't be the first time he had done so. He had been a C-Sec detective after all. Not to mention that Omega had had its fair share of vicious females.

Sighing again, he leant against the wall next to the left. When had he become so suspicious and untrusting in life?

 _Since Sidonis betrayed you_ , the nasty little voice in his head whispered. He growled, and punched the wall. He didn't deny it though. Spirits help him, it was probably true. Although that said, his two years on Omega hadn't helped. There, suspicion and distrust were practically a way of life.

He decided that, since he was down here, he might as well indulge in a little pistol practise. Shepard had told him when he had first woken up that she had a small store of pistols and practise rounds down here. So when the lift came down twenty minutes later, he shifted away from traditional target practise, and was instead attempting to make pictures out of his target. He was currently attempting to draw a simple version of the Spectre symbol. It was going quite well, or so he thought himself.

He paused when he heard the lift open behind him. He heard heels clicking behind him, and his mandibles flared with irritation.

Lawson.

She was the only one who wore heels on the ship, at least, the only one who wore them day to day. The other women on the ship probably wore them as well, just only at parties.

He turned his head, just to confirm his suspicions, and yes, the raven haired woman was standing there. If he hadn't had so much practise reading human expression, at C-Sec, on the first Normandy, and then Omega, he would probably have missed the flash of irritation in her eyes.

"Miss Lawson," he said politely. Then his snarky streak kicked in. "What brings you into the domain of us poor mortals?"

Miranda frowned. "Shepard is planning to open the Krogan tank, so she asked me to check on our food supplies. Apparently Krogan eat a lot." The corner of her mouth twitched up. "I suppose that she isn't wrong."

"Oh she's quite serious," Garrus said with a nod, returning to his target practise. "Wrex ate at least three times the standard rations. If this baby Krogan is anything like that, then it was a good call." His mandibles flared with amusement. "Although I should warn you, if Wrex was anything to go by, Krogan lack table manners." He didn't need to turn to know that the expression on Miranda's face went something along the lines of 'why did I sign up for this again?'

Then again, he could be wrong. She wouldn't be the top operative in Cerberus if she was squeamish. Maybe the lack of table manners would not affect her. He gave a mental shrug, and returned his focus to his target practise.

Until he heard the slight rustle of canvas.

He drew a small device form a pouch on his belt, before setting it down on the crate he was using as a table. He pressed a small button on it, and it flickered into life, before imitating pistol shots, one every few seconds. It wouldn't last long though. Lawson was no fool, she would recognise that there was not an interruption for a change of clip.

Moving as fast as he dared, he crept towards the now slightly displaced canvas curtain. He paused a moment, then yanked it aside. His eyes narrowed as he saw Miranda leap back from the secure locker that held Kythelea's weapons, spinning on her heel as she did so, biotics flaring more on instinct than any real desire to attack him. Their gazes met, both irritated, one unrepentant. He said nothing, merely stepped back from the curtain slightly, holding it open, still holding her gaze. She held it for a moment longer, then strode out without a backwards glance. Garrus followed her until she was in the turned back to the room, his curiosa rising.

It was simple, merely containing the two secured lockers for Kythelea's weapons and armour, a cot, a small table with a terminal placed on top, and small set of music speakers next to it. His eyes flickered back to the lockers. He examined them with a frown. Instead of having a key code or a simply mechanical lock, it instead had a voice activated system. That was risky in his opinion. Someone could simply recorded her speaking and then play it back to the lock, causing it to unlock.

He tapped on the small holo lock. A screen projected itself slightly above the touch point.

Garrus' mandibles widened in a smirk. The language on the screen was one that he didn't recognise. At all. And after two years on Omega, he was pretty damn certain he could recognise any language that wasn't made up or really, really old.

"Clever girl," he murmured.

"I'm not a velociraptor, but thank you."

Garrus whirled, startled. Kythelea was standing behind him, leaning on a crutch, one arm in a cast. The side of her face was bruised from the backlash of the rocket blast. Her face had a smile, but her eyes were suspicious.

"You've seen Jurassic Park?" He asked.

"Would have thought you'd be the one to have not seen it, considering it's a human film," Kythelea said in a matter of fact tone, limping into the room. She glared at him when he reached forward to help her.

"I'm injured, not an invalid," she protested. Garrus just nodded and ignored her, assisting her to the bed. The back of his mind noted again how like Shepard she was. She sat down heavily, before shifting to lie on her back, wincing as she moved bone and muscle not quite fully healed.

"Wouldn't have thought you would be up yet," Garrus commented, "I took a rocket to the face and I was out for over 12 hours. It's only been 10 since we got you back on the Normandy."

Kythelea cracked a smile, then winced slightly as her bruised muscles protested the motion. "The difference is that I was wearing a helmet. That and my armour locks up when under sudden pressure, like an explosion." Her eyes flickered over to meet his. "I'm surprised that you lot don't have similar systems, consider the number of biotics running around here."

Garrus lent forward slightly, frowning slightly. There it was, a comment that didn't make sense, much like her one at the beginning of the mission on Korlus.

"You lot?" He asked, curiosity clear in his voice. Kythelea's face turned sad.

"A story for another time," she said, her voice distant. She didn't meet his gaze.

"Why wait? You aren't going anywhere anytime soon," Garrus pointed out. When she didn't answer he pressed her. "Don't leave me hanging Blackstone."

"No bothering the temporary cripple," she said with a glare.

"I thought you said you weren't an invalid," Garrus pointed out smoothly. Kythelea's glare intensified.

"Look Garrus, I get it. You want to know why I'm so like Shepard, but quite frankly I am currently lacking the patience to explain my long and convoluted story, so unless you want to be booted out the airlock, piss off!" she snapped. Her anger evaporated moments later, and seemed to sink further into her cot.

There was silence for several moments. Garrus just gazed at her, a somewhat guilty expression on his face.

"Sorry for snapping at you," Kythelea said quietly, "but I'm shattered, sore, and if I wasn't on half a dozen different painkillers I'd be getting pissed right about now." It took a moment for Garrus to remember what Kythelea meant by getting pissed, but then his mental 'odd human phrases' translator kicked into gear, and he recalled it.

"Well, when your feeling better, I'll get you that drink," he said, "then we can go, as you so succinctly put it, get pissed." Kythelea chuckled, then winced as her ribs protested.

"Go away and stop making me laugh," she said in a mock protest. "Go back to your calibrations."

Garrus laughed, then left, sliding the curtain back into place, resolving inwardly to question her another time. Kythelea leant back on the bed, flicking on her speakers and putting some music on. EDI had, at her request, set her up an account for a music streaming service, as well as downloading a somewhat ridiculous range of music based upon what Shepard liked reasoning, understandably, that the two would like similar types of music. Just because she had stopped _recording_ Kythelea revealing where she was from didn't stop her from _listening_. That conversation had been locked behind her most powerful firewalls.

Kythelea had played one track, for all of five seconds, before jamming the pause button, and redirecting EDI to an entirely different genre.

Shepard, it seemed, loved rap, hip-hop and disco music.

Kythelea considered them to be an offence to music kind, and had had EDI download rock, pop, alternative rock, and interspersed it with instrumentals.

As a piano began to quietly play, Kythelea shifted on the bed, before dropping off into a doze.

* * *

It was the Batarian's fault.

It usually was a Batarian. The bastards were so high and mighty sometimes that they could Asari lessons in being arrogant. They also didn't like to accused of being cheats and liars, so when she did just that… Well.

Tables got flipped.

The cards went everywhere as the table was tossed into her face. This particular club had real cards, rather than holographic displays. Made it both harder to cheat, and added a sense of class. Well, in her opinion at any rate.

She stopped worrying about the table and cards when the Batarian launched himself at her, a drawn knife in hand. He seemed surprised when he missed his target and instead found himself being tossed into the wall. His friend, a Turian, lunged at her, but was sent reeling back, gasping, as her fist met his through. She quickly snatched him by his armour front and ensured that he underwent 'cognitive recalibration.'

Also known as getting knocked out by being punched in the face by an armoured fist. Repeatedly.

The Batarian had found his footing by this point, but froze as she drew her weapon. Indeed, most of the bar froze. Across the criminal underworld, it was a weapon with an infamous reputation. It was an M-11 Supressor, but that pistol, while rare, was not what made it infamous.

What made this particular pistol infamous was the barrel tip. It was in the shape of a snarling dragon, and it belonged to one person.

It's owner had appeared out of nowhere, on Omega. All such people tended to start out there. She had identified a small pirate crew, marched up to them, demanding to speak to their leader. The leader had laughed, then leered at her, asking if she wanted a place on his ship. She had smiled a smile that belonged on the face a hideous monster of myth, pulled out the very same pistol, and shot him through the heart. As he lay bleeding out on the floor, she had looked at him coolly and said, in a tone filled with morbid humour.

"I don't want a place on your ship. I _want_ your ship."

The pirate crew had been astonished, both at the death of their captain and the woman's boldness. After all, she didn't seem much older than 16. Yet she had the balls to march up to them and perform a hostile takeover of their ship.

For that alone, they followed her for a time with little protest. Then they followed her because she raked in the money, and kept them alive. She earned their loyalty through both her actions and by paying them handsomely.

That, and by pegging out one crew member who attempted to betray her on Tuchunka, near a Varren den, after covering him in animal fat, knee capping him through both knees, and castrating him with a spoon.

Funnily enough, no one tried to betray her after that.

The Terminus Systems came to fear her. She was known as a demon to merchants and miners who plied the Terminus systems, her symbol of a pair of crossed daggers behind a grinning draconian skull brining fear to all who saw it. She become known as the Dragoness of the Terminus, and even Aria would think hard before betraying a deal cut with her. She had amassed a fleet of pirate ships capable of fighting against the average Council patrol, if they were forced to. They didn't generally, but if they had to, they could.

Despite her infamy, no one knew what she looked like. In public she wore a mask that covered the upper half of her face, while her head was covered by a dark hooded cloak. No one had been able to get a picture of her in private either, where it was believed she took the mask off. It had driven the STG, largely responsible for Council Intelligence, stir crazy. It only had a few concrete facts.

Firstly, that the Dragoness was a human female. That had been determined by her body shape and what pale skin could be seen.

Secondly, she despised slavers, particularly Batarians. Any that crossed her path were crushed without mercy, and the slaves were dropped off in the disabled ship either near patrolling ships in shuttles, or over colonies, whether in the Terminus systems themselves or on the edge of Citadel space. In addition, she never took the crewmen of captured ships as slaves either.

Thirdly, and perhaps most surprisingly, she had a strong religious conviction. This came from a few rare accounts from agents on Omega. The Dragoness had been seen entering a church located on the pirate capital several times, and she always did so alone. She did not do so unarmed however, as was proved when a rival gang had, in the early years, attempted to take her out. They had been cut to pieces.

Finally, they knew that she had commissioned a private ship, built to her specifications. This was no pleasure yacht though. It was a heavy cruiser of a unique design, dart shaped with a trio of wings forming a triangle. It traded armour for speed and firepower, carrying a larger than normal Eezo core and a thrust to weight ratio comparable to a frigate, although it still had powerful shields. This ship, identified as the _Night Wyvern_ , had already caused terror, despite having only been operation for a year and a half.

The STG had tried, and failed, to get an agent on board the ship, if only to plant bugs, but there were a very small number of people who could get on, namely the crew of the ship plus a few others, many of which had been part of the very same pirate crew she had started with. To gain access, they had to undergo some kind of test. It was always here that their agents were caught. They always failed the test, the details of which was a closely kept secret.

But back to the bar.

The Batarian was currently in the process of needing brown pants. The Dragoness was standing in front of him, a half smirk on her face, which was, as usual, hidden by one of her half face masks. This one was a simple dark blue, which was half the reason why he hadn't recognised her earlier. Her masks tended to be elegant and elaborate.

"Are you feeling… Lucky?" She asked, her contra alto voice soft, slightly husky. That sent shivers down the spines of half the bar. When the Dragoness spoke those words… Someone usually died.

The silence was broken by her Omni-tool going off. She checked it, her pistol not moving from its potential target. Her smirk shifted to a frown. She lowered her pistol, letting it collapse back into its holster.

"It's you lucky day it seems," she said, before turning on her heel and marching out. The entire bar breathed out sigh of relief.

The Dragoness frowned as she reread the message, only half noticing her bodyguards falling in around her. It was from the address registered to one of her contacts, an intelligence broker. It asked her to contact him immediately. What worried her was the code he used. 'A dragon rises'. It meant that someone had entered the galactic stage that she needed to know about. The last time this had been used had been when Archangel had appeared on Omega. An irritating number of trade deals had been busted by that Turian and his gang. Last she had heard he was cornered and his days were numbered. She hoped he was dead by now.

She was still mulling over who it could be when she entered her ships airlock. Her ship was docked at a pirate station deep within the Terminus systems, something of a safe haven away from Omega. The Turian who ran the station enforced a strict no violence policy, within or around the station or the planet it orbited. If you could follow that rule then you were welcome on the station, for a small fee that varied based on your ship class.

"Everything okay mi'lady?" Her XO, an Asari maiden called Rani, asked. She insisted calling her captain 'mi'lady', something had caught on with the rest of the crew despite the protest of said lady. Some old Asari cultural reason.

"Not sure," the Dragoness replied, "Got a 'dragon rising' code from one of my intelligence contacts. I'm going to take his call in the comm room, get ready for cast off." Rani nodded, pressing buttons on her Omni-tool, calling the crew back from where ever they were on the station. It would irritate crew, but they knew she wouldn't call them back without good reason.

The Dragoness quickly set up the link needed in the comm room. Her contact, an ageing salarian named Tek, was waiting for her.

"So who's rising?" She asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Tek didn't reply, just sent across a series of images. She looked at them, staring at them for a long minute. Still staring at the pictures she asked, "This verified?"

"Several times." She didn't reply for several moments.

"You get double for this. Thank you," she said at last. Tek nodded, but his eyes showed his surprise. The Dragoness of the Terminus Systems did not do simple pleasantries like 'thank you'. Before he could ask more she cut the link.

She was still staring at the images when Rani came in half an hour later. The Asari opened her mouth to ask where she wanted to go to, but the words died in her throat when she saw the pictures. It took another minute for her to find her voice.

"How?" She asked. The rest of the question went unsaid.

"I don't know," the Dragoness murmured, "all I know is that my prayers have been answered."

The silence that followed stretched out for several seconds.

"Set course to Omega," the Dragoness said at last, "we'll start there."

* * *

 **AN:** A new player enters this great game...

Of course Kythelea has seen Jurassic park, its a classic!

As for her armour, I based how it went together on Halo's MJOLNIR armour. It seemed like the best comparison, and they seem to be fairly similar to structure, at least to me.

Next time, we head to the Citadel, recruit Kasumi, meet the council, Grunt gets birthed before everyone heads off, and we will either head back to the SWTOR universe or have more time with the Dragoness of the Terminus Systems.

I plan to have fun with the council meeting. After all, Kythelea will probably be there, and boy will she have things to say about the Geno phage and the Quarians.

Rate, review, and I'll see ya next time!


	9. And I Thought Wrex Was Big

**AN:** Sorry this is late! I'm afraid that school work simply got on top of me!

Anyway, a Review Response

 **Guest since Ch1:** While that would be a nice theory, I'm afraid you're wrong. For a start, the IA got mentioned in about the second or third chapter as a male Zabrak. Secondly, only Kythelea has made the jump across from SWTOR to ME. If a character is introduced in the ME universe first, they were born there.

Also as a more general point, I'm not including the expansions in this story. I've got enough to deal with trying to combine SWTOR and ME in a way that works, four at least four active class characters from SWTOR to deal with and their respective squadmates, plus all the squad mates in ME, means that something had to go. As such, while the expansions and the story lines that go with them will happen, they won't happen in this story, or maybe even the sequel that I will presumeable write that addresses ME 3. I'm also not going to bring ME characters, bar possibly those whose last names are Shepard, into SWTOR. I know ME far better than SWTOR, and Star Wars is so massive in general that I'm nervous about playing with it it _too_ much.

Besides, I have no idea what happens in them, so no spoilers! I want to play them free of spoilers! Especially the Eternal Empire expansions. Those I _really_ want to go into without knowing what happens.

Anyway, one with the story!

* * *

 **Sith Cruiser** _ **Hand of Nox**_ **– In Orbit Around Rakatan Space Station** _ **Gateway**_

Aethulwuld glanced at the door, then idly brushed off the sleeve of his robe. He had wondered just why the crewmen and women of the ship were nervous when they had seen him and Analia on board. He had doubted that they were afraid of him, for one they were currently allies, and Analia, he was not embarrassed to admit, could probably crush him to a pulp with her force powers. Only the Barsen'thor was her match in a straight fight. The Miralukan Jedi Shadow was more subtle when it came to wielding force powers, something that came with the territory of being a Shadow, but that made him no less dangerous. He was probably also very dangerous with his Aqua coloured saber-staff, capable of holding off several master level melee combatants at once.

The reason why the crewmen were nervous became apparent an hour later. Analia, it seemed, hated it when she could not find records pertaining to an issue, and would then proceed to rage, throw things about with the force and toss about lightning like it was going out of fashion.

Since Aethulwuld's discovery of a force signature identical to his sister's Analia had thrown herself into research, old tomes, transcripts of carvings, anything to find a precedent. Considering the fact that Aethulwuld was able to hear her swearing, in an ancient form of Huttese if he wasn't mistaken, through the bulkhead of the ship, she wasn't having much luck.

Her raging force signature also gave him a hint.

He glanced up as he heard footsteps approaching, meeting the gaze of Ashara. The togruta simply glanced at the bulkhead, which chose that moment to form an impression that look remarkable like a chair, and sighed. She looked resigned.

"I take it this is a common occurrence?" Aethulwuld asked.

"Fairly," Ashara admitted, "though she is restraining herself at the moment." She smirked at the Jedi's incredulous look. "There is a large outdoor platform just off the corridor that joins her lab and library in her personal complex. Whenever she gets too angry she goes there and starts blasting pieces off the nearby mountains with force lightning." Ashara shrugged. "We did debate finding a scrap yard for her to wreck, but the decided we didn't want to have to deal exploding reactor cores." Aethulwuld was working on trying to keep her jaw attached to the rest of his head.

"She blasts off pieces of mountains?" He said faintly.

"That was only one time, it wasn't actually that big, and there was only a small piece of rock holding it in place."

Aethwuld just shook his head, and mentally revised Analia's power rating up in his head. Jedi and Sith Apprentice both snapped their heads towards the door as it flew open, allowing an infuriated Sith Sorceress to exit, still muttering under her breath, although this time it was in a language that Aethulwuld did not recognise, eyes a burning golden colour. Behind her were a trio of trembling acolytes who had been assisting her, and had then likely become target practise. They seemed to be physically unscathed, although they would probably jump at every bit of force lightning for the next week.

"I'm going assume you have no luck," Aethulwuld said carefully, ready to draw his lightsaber should a burst of lightning come his way. Fortunately, he was merely glared at, then received a tirade of insults in a third language, one that his mind idly identified as one native to Korriban.

"I put in my own request at the Jedi Archives on Tython, maybe they will turn up something," he said once the rant had finally died down.

"I doubt it," Analia snorted, "your Jedi archives are huge I know, but there is some knowledge that can only be found by walking the dark paths, paths that you won't walk for fear of being corrupted." The last word was said with a sneer. "Besides, a lot of information would have been lost during the Sacking of Coruscant."

"But as far as we know, there is nothing light or dark about having the same force signature to someone else," Aethulwuld pointed out as they headed towards the galley for a meal, ignoring the jab from the sorceress. Crewmen would salute or bow as they passed, depending on if they served the Imperial Navy or were a part of Analia's Sith network. Aethulwuld was given looks that varied from blank, to anger, to sneers. He paid them no mind.

"True," Analia said, her tone thoughtful, "though I would still contest that the Sith Archives are greater than the Jedi ones."

"I doubt it," Aethulwuld said, his tone turning dry, "we share knowledge, whereas you lot horde it." He neatly leaned away from her hand as she attempted to swot him.

"Hush you," she said with a glare, before her expression turned mischievous, "or I will have to start finding ways to…. _ensure_ you accept my invitation." Aethulwuld became nervous. Despite her generally playful attitude, her mind was sharp enough to cut clean through Beskar. If she was determined to make him accept her 'invitation', he was doomed.

"Anyway," Aethulwuld said, "have you come any closer to finding out what that twist was in the path?" Analia's scowl returned.

"No, not been able to get anything for that either. Where ever your sister has gone, the amount of energy I had to use to sustain means that she is a very long way away."

"Or in a different dimension."

The whole group froze, then spun on the spot, staring at one of acolytes who had just spoken. Said acolyte, a red skinned Twi'lek a few years younger than Niveah, went stiff as she realised that she had just spoken.

"Another dimension?" Aethulwuld demanded. The acolyte hesitated, then swallowed hard.

"Well… it's clear that Major Blackstone is not in this galaxy, otherwise it would not have required so much energy to find her," she began nervously. "I've assisted a few cross galaxy hunts using the force, and they were not so tiring. I considered the possibility that she was in a different galaxy, but if she was then the energy spike would not have happened. There would have been an increase, and it might have been stuck as great by the end, but it would not have been so sudden." The acolyte was growing more confident. "The only thing greater than transport to a different galaxy that I could think of was transport to a different dimension." She hesitated, the forged on. "It would also go some way to explaining why there were two identical signatures. Dimensional doppelgängers." The acolyte fell silent, somewhat nervous at the expressions of the others, as they had gone from incredulous to astonished.

For several long seconds, there was complete silence. Then Analia gave a whoop of delight, grabbed the acolyte around the waist and spinning her around.

"You genius!" She exclaimed, setting the now confused, bemused and terrified acolyte down, before yanking her close and giving her a hard kiss on the lips, dazing the poor girl even further. "You beautiful genius!" Spinning on the balls of her feet, she shot down the corridor back to her lab, the door hissing shut behind her, leaving an amused Sith Apprentice, a surprised Jedi Battlemaster, two astonished Sith Acolytes and a third acolyte dazed, touching her lips with her fingers, not quite believing what had just happened.

A hand extended into the Twi'lek's vision, holding a small flask. She glanced up at the owner of the hand, Aethulwuld.

"Corellian brandy," he said simply, "I find it helps when dealing with her." The acolyte accepted the flask, still mostly dazed, and took several long drinks.

The rest of the group could not find it in themselves to disagree. They continued walking towards the galley, though not without Aethwulwuld leaning towards Ashara and asking, "Bets on that acolyte receiving an 'invitation'?"

His response was a small smile and a raised eyebrow that said 'any more silly questions?'

* * *

 **Serpent Nebula – Normandy SR2**

Shepard stood in front of the tank, internally debating with herself whether or not to open it. EDI had already told her about the Krogan inside, and combined with the data they had pulled form Okeer's terminal, it essentially amounted to something just short of a fully grown Krogan super solider. A full set of redundant biological systems, including tertiary where applicable, muscle mass greater than average for his biological age, increased biological efficiency in his storage hump. The perfect solider.

Miranda had been sceptical at best about letting the Krogan out, possibly fearing that Okeer would have bent his mind to hatred of all those not Krogan. Shepard had to admit that the woman had a point, but had agreed with Jacob when he had said that having a perfect Krogan on their team was one hell of a boost in firepower. Mordin had been excited about studying him if nothing else, while Garrus was somewhere between Jacob and Miranda. Having fought beside Wrex when hunting down Saren, he had a healthy respect for the combat prowess of the Krogan, but he was worried that since the Krogan in the tank was quite clearly young, it would be much harder to control than the grumpy and cynical Krogan battlemaster.

Never the less, Shepard had decided to open the tank. So with a foreboding comment about consequences from EDI, she punched in the command.

With a gurgle, the liquid that held the Krogan suspended drained into reservoirs at the bottom of the tank. Hissing, the glass of the tank slid up, and the Krogan staggered out. He dropped to his knees, hacking and coughing as he spat out the nutrient liquid in his lungs. Finally he straightened.

Shepard looked up. And up. And blurted out the first thing that came to mind, even with a towering Krogan super soldier glaring down at her with his bright blue eyes.

"Christ you're tall!"

The Krogan looked puzzled for a moment, before charging forward with a roar. He slammed Shepard into the wall, pinning her in place with one massive armoured forearm. He glared right at her, completely ignoring her struggles.

"Human," he growled, "female. Before you die, I need a name."

"Commander Emily Shepard," she replied with a growl of her own, "now put me down before I put you on your ass!"

"Not your name," the Krogan said, irritation in his voice, not releasing her, "mine. I'm trained, I know things, but that tank… Okeer couldn't implant connection. His words are hollow." He seemed almost contemplative. "Warlord, legacy, grunt… grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last, it has no meaning. It'll do." His eyes, which had wondered slightly as he spoke, refocused on Shepard like laser beams. "I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."

"Why do you want me to try and kill you?" Shepard asked, puzzled.

"Want?" It was Grunt's turn to sound puzzled. "The tank never asked what I wanted."

"Then I'll be the first," Shepard said, a degree of confidence that she did not quite feel entering her voice. "Do you want to fight an enemy that no Krogan has fought before? An enemy with power and skill enough to kidnap entire colonies, regardless of their defences?"

"Who is this enemy you speak of?" Grunt asked, a light in his eyes.

"The Collectors," Shepard replied. Grunt tilted his head slightly in thought.

"They sound like worthy foes," Grunt said slowly, "but why should I fight under your command?"

"Because I defeated the greatest foe of all," Shepard said. She was deliberately playing herself up to get this Krogan on side. When Grunt looked at her with a curious look she grinned like a shark. "I defeated Death. It was too boring being dead, so I came back to this world."

"That," Grunt said, a hint of admiration, "is impressive." He gave a deep chuckle. "Very well Shepard, I will fight for you."

"Glad you saw reason," Shepard said, her shark tooth grin still on her face, and pressed harder into his side with the Carnifex in her hand. Grunt looked down in surprise, then laughed as he stepped away, releasing Shepard.

"Offer friendship with one hand but arm the other," he said, "wise Shepard." He turned back to the tank, and began rummaging around in compartments located in its base.

"I'll leave you to get settled," Shepard said, heading towards the lift. Grunt made a noise of acknowledgment as she left. She entered the lift, humming as she did so. Judging by his size alone, Grunt would be a valuable asset to her team. She had found the value of having someone who could soak up firepower when hunting Saren. It had meant that people like herself were able to charge in close, and distract others from Garrus or Ashley when they were sniping.

She stepped off when she reached the bridge, heading up to the cockpit, idly rechecking the message from Anderson. The human councillor had asked that, if the rumours were true, she come and see him at the human embassy. She was apprehensive about seeing him in truth. After Mindoir, he had become something of a surrogate uncle/father for her. Always kind to her, looking out for her. She had always known that she was going to join the Alliance, and he had helped her with that, supporting her all the way, as well as helping her fight through the inevitable nightmares that she had from the slave raid. She still had them occasionally, but they were a rare occurrence now. She would never call him her uncle or father out loud, but that was how she felt towards him.

"How we doing Joker?" She asked, leaning on the back of his chair.

"I'll tell you when you get off my chair," he said without looking up.

"Make me," she teased. She yelped when he suddenly spun his chair around, just managing to catch herself before she toppled to the floor. She glared at the bearded pilot, who was grinning.

"You did say make me," he said cheekily. Shepard huffed, then glared at him. He kept grinning. "In any case, we're about two hours out from the Citadel, arriving mid-afternoon. You wake up that baby Krogan yet?"

"I did," Shepard said, moving over to sit in the co-pilots chair. "He's called Grunt, and what he seems to lack in experience I reckon he'll make up for in brute force." She shrugged. "Plus I want to see Miranda's reaction to this table manners, or lack of them." She grinned, then headed back towards the CIC.

"Make sure to get a recording," Joker called after her.

"Just watch through the cameras! I know you can access them," Shepard called back. Joker chuckled, turning back to his controls, doubling checking their course.

"I didn't ask her about Blackstone," he said half to himself. He glanced to his left. "Hey EDI-"

"No, Mr Moreau," EDI cut over him.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask you!" He protested.

"You were going to ask what I knew about Major Blackstone's background," EDI countered, "to quote what Shepard said to Garrus Vakarian earlier: 'it is not my tale to tell.'"

"Boring AI," Joker muttered, "isn't it your job to provide information anyway?"

"Would you enjoy it if I gave away your life details without your permission?" EDI asked, somewhat pointedly.

Joker grimaced, and focused on piloting. Why did the AI have to be right?

* * *

Kythelea sighed as she put away the patch kit for her armour. It was small, and she would have to find a way to properly repair her armour, but for now she wouldn't have a cracked shin plate. She grimaced slightly. She wasn't against going to, say Mordin, for his help in identifying the exact material make up of the armour and getting the right material to do a proper repair or replacement job, but she was concerned that Miranda would try and demand that someone from Cerberus carry out the repairs, or at least that someone watch her repairing it 'to ensure that she didn't damage herself, others or the ship', and risk Cerberus gaining access to her armour designs. Or worse, she might demand armour or weapon schematics in return for the materials. Something that Kythelea was determined to avoid.

She winced as she stood. While Chakwas was a brilliant doctor, there was only so much she could do in a week and a half since Korlus. Her arm, most badly injured and thus received the most attention, was almost completely healed. The bones were in their correct places, and in one piece. Now she just had to wait for the tendons to finished healing. Her ribs were also still a little sore. They hadn't received so much attention, and so were not quite as healed, but as they hadn't done a great deal as the Normandy did some mineral mining, there had been nothing to really impede their ability to heal.

She began to change out of her borrowed uniform, and into the under suit for her armour. Shepard had asked if she wanted to come and meet the council.

Kythelea had accepted eagerly. She wanted to have some words with them about something, well, three things really. The Genophage, the Quarians, and the number of council seats. The Genophage was really a war crime of the grandest kind. Uplifting the Krogan in the first place as nothing more than warriors is what caused the Rebellions since they essentially handed a child a live blaster. The Quarian Case she simply did not understand. It had been 300 years since the Geth booted the Quarians from Rannoch, and because of stupid laws they haven't been allowed to get a new homeworld, and were treated like criminals just by walking into a room. It disgusted her. Yes, they had made a mistake, but it was the paranoia of the council over AI that partly lead to the Geth in the first place, as their ban on AI research had made the Quarians try and find loop holes to exploit. The Quarains own reaction wasn't particularly great either.

But what really irritated her was the number of seats. Scrap that, it angered her. The Citadel claimed that it was in favour of democracy, but only four races had seats on the council. How the the Nine Hells was that democratic!? She could understand the Volus not have a seat, they were a client race of the Turians, and had entered into that willingly, but it made no sense for the rest of the Citadel species. It went against a lot of her beliefs, especially after growing up in the Republic with its vast Senate. Even if they went by race and not worlds, there would still be a large number of representatives. Yes it was different way of doing things, as the races of her galaxy had become so spread out that trying to cater to the needs to race over worlds simply wasn't practical, but still….

She pulled on the armoured bodysuit. It felt good to be back in armour after 10 days of not wearing it. It was a comforting reminder of home. She tried not to think of it too much. Thinking of home made her think of her brother and sister, her mother, her squad and inevitably, Aric. That damnable Cathar sniper with his dry sense of humour, with his eyes that would tried to hide his amusement as her scolded her for doing something stupid, his ears that twitch in very much a cat like fashion when he was listening hard, and the simple times of just parking the _Comet_ in the middle of space and having supper as a squad. Even Forex joined in, though he couldn't eat anything. They would talk, banter and argue, completely informal. Even Dorne managed to relax somewhat at these meals.

She pushed those thoughts to one side as she picked up her armour plates. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes. Now wasn't the time to cry.

Now was the time to rip the council a new one. Even if she had to be polite while doing so.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably not.

Who was she kidding? She wasn't going to be polite.

In the cockpit, Shepard suddenly had the feeling that inviting Kythelea along to meet the council was going to end badly.

* * *

The Dragoness sat in her quarters, deep in thought. They were currently on the way to Omega, mid flight between two relays, and that gave her time to think.

What was she going to do?

The person she now searched for was one she had thought to be dead. She had mourned their passing, berated herself for not going to them again, despite the differences that had risen up between them over the years. She should have gone to see them. Some things matter more than reputation. They wouldn't have been endangered by the knowledge, not unless God was cruel. She did not believe that in any case.

Perhaps this was God's way of saying that He still believed in her. That for all she had done, she was not beyond forgiveness. She could not think of another answer.

The ship shuddered as it jumped through the relay. The Dragoness looked up, surprised. Time had flown faster than she thought. They would be closing on Omega. She pulled up her hood, slid on her half mask, this one jade green with silver engravings, and, infarmous pistol on her belt, headed to the bridge. It was something of a tradition for her to be on the bridge, ensuring that it was properly docked. It wasn't that she didn't trust her pilot, he was excellent. Not quite as good as Jeff Moreau, but then again, he had apparently broken just about every piloting record in the book. Not to mention he had stolen the Normandy just to prove he was good enough to pilot it. If it wasn't for the fact that she was certain that he would never fly for her, she would have tried to recruit him. Even her pilot, a female Turian by the name of Tolena, would willing surrender the helm to him. She had said as much when she after being dragged out of the ship by the Dragoness to get drunk, otherwise she rarely left the ship, constantly tinkering with it along with the engineering crew, perfecting to her piloting style. Tolena knew the ship almost back to front, although not as well as the _Night Wyvern_ 's chief engineer, a quiet timid Asari called Eni Falina. Despite her shyness, she knew the ship blindfolded, every bolt and rivet. It was actually scary just how in tune she was with the ship. Sometimes the Dragoness genuinely wondered if Eni was the physical manifestation of her ship she was so in tune with it.

She was drawn out of her thoughts as the doors of the bridge hissed open. Rani glanced up from where she was standing on the command platform.

"Mi'lady," she said in greeting, yielding the platform to her captain, "we are just over half an hour from Omega. Aria has said that she will meet with you in Afterlife once you have docked." The Dragoness nodded. The bridge was shaped in the style of Turian warships, giving her a commanding view of the CIC. Unlike Turian warships however, the command platform held a throne. It was a huge chair, its arm rests carved with snarling dragons. It was a vanity of the part of its captain, and she knew it, so she had made it so that she could monitor the ships status and systems from it. That way, it was at least partly practical. Rani didn't sit in it, despite assurances that she could, instead using a terminal next to it.

The Dragoness settled herself in it. She pulled up the ships status, running her eyes over it. While she was not on par with Tolena or Eni when it came to engineering, she had over 10 years of naval engineering experience at her disposal, at both the bottom and top of the ladder, and she was a fair hand with tech. What that meant is that when her chief engineer and pilot dropped into tech speak, she could follow about half of it. Most engineers, unless they were Asari, would only be able to follow about a quarter, and even some Asari got lost on occasion.

She pursed ship readouts until they docked. Then, in respect to Aria's position as ruler of Omega, she left the ship with only two body guards, a Turian named Arcturus and a human named Sirius. The latter had gotten far too many Harry Potter jokes thrown at him. The trio marched towards Afterlife, the two men having to hurry slightly to keep up with their shorter captain, who seemed to be barely holding back from flat out running. They breezed past the bouncer at Afterlife, and the Dragoness waved her bodyguards away, telling them to get a drink and put it on her. They hesitated for a moment, then, reassured that their charge would be safe, went to the bar.

"Dragoness," Aria said in greeting. She didn't rise from her sofa.

"Aria," the Dragoness replied. She marched right up to the Asari, ignoring the looks of Aria's guards. Even they could tell she was tense. She dropped down on the sofa next to Aria. "I'm looking for someone, someone really important. And I'm willing to pay big money. But I'll only tell you through a mind meld."

Aria's eyebrows shot up. "How much money?" The Dragoness quoted a figure. Aria's eyebrows attempted to achieve Omega orbit. That was a lot of money, even for them. "You do know that by going into mind meld I'll be able to see your memories right? I'll know all your plans, operations. Every dirty secret of yours will be mine."

"This is worth it," was the reply. Aria thought for a moment, then nodded. This was too good for her pass up.

5 minutes later, it was over, and Aria's bodyguards experienced the rare sight of seeing their boss utterly gobsmacked. It only lasted a few moments, but it was quite a sight.

Aria pulled herself together, then stared at the eyes hidden behind the mask. "How many others know?"

"Just my crew, and they won't betray me on this."

Aria leant back on the sofa, thoughts flying through her head. The revelation as to the Dragoness' true identity was a shock. She would never have suspected. It did explain a few things though, like her leadership skills and her drive, as well as her hatred of Batarian slavers. She raised her eyes, meeting the hidden gaze of the second most powerful woman in the Terminus Systems.

"No charge," she said. It was the turn of the Dragoness to look stunned. "Its debt repayment. Your target helped me recently in several ways." She told the other woman, preempting her question. When she was done, the Dragoness had to chuckle.

"Somethings never change," she said with a shake of her head. Aria nodded. That much had been made clear by the memories of the human woman.

"I'll send any information I hear my way until you tell me otherwise. You could try asking the Shadow Broker for a contact address," Aria suggested. "Or maybe go to Illium." A wry smile curled her lips. "You've got the clout to land your ship there. After all, you never raided Illium."

"I'm not stupid," the Dragoness agreed with a laugh. She stood from the sofa. "Thank you Aria." There was nothing but sincerity in her voice. Aria just grinned.

"Don't thank me. I want to be a fly on the wall when you meet again."

* * *

 **AN:** So there we go. Grunt gets born, the SWTOR lot realise where Kythelea has gone thanks to a little outside the box thinking, Shepard starts to worry that taking her dimensional doppelgänger to speak with the council is a bad idea, and Aria finds out the real identity of the Dragoness.

... Yes I am a tease. Sue me.

I decided to do the council next chapter. Honestly, they deserve a chapter all to themselves, and I wanted to get this chapter out.

Anyhoo... Driving test tomorrow... welp...

Rate, Review, and I'll see ya next time!


	10. Playing Politics

**AN:** This chapter was oddly difficult to write. Maybe my muse was just not with me when I tried to write it.

I just noticed that this story has reached over 10,000 views! Thank you to everyone that has read this so far. I hope you keep enjoying it!

Anyway, a review response.

 **Guest since Ch1:** I get what you mean about an info dump. Have no fear, that ain't happening. Sometimes it makes sense to do one, but not in this case. Anderson may get one at a later date, but unless circumstances force otherwise, the council, Udina and especially our dear friend TIM won't get anything. Illium could make things difficult however. I have to ask as well, why do you keep on suggesting that Shepard will end up in the SWTOR universe? Maybe you're interpreting a few things wrong from what I've said or write, but I have no plans currently to sent anyone to the SWTOR universe from ME. For the helmet cam thing, don't worry, Kythelea has already shown some of the footage to Shepard.

When Kythelea does reveal her past to the rest of the crew, which lets be honest, will likely happen towards the end of the this story, she'll use it then.

On a side note, dude, get a proper account! I'd love to talk a little more about this stuff to you, but I don't want to risk spoilers on the main story!

Also, I've just discovered that Shepard, and by extension Kythelea, is supposed to be 31 in ME2, not 30. This makes Aethuwuld 26, and Niveah 23. Ages are mirrored on the Shepard side of the family.

Anyway, enough rambling from me, on with the story!

* * *

It had started well.

Shepard had brought Mordin to the council meeting as well as Kythelea, and he ws able to refute the rumours that Shepard had been working with Cerberus for several months, rather than just over a fortnight. It had actually been amusing to see the Salarian Councilor, Valern, look contrite when he realised that the STG, who were supposed to be the best intelligence organisation in the galaxy, had been fed bullshit and that they hadn't verified it properly. Added to the fact that Mordin was highly respected, as a scientist, doctor and agent, meant that his word carried a lot of weight.

She was also fairly sure that Valern's eyes had lit up like it was Christmas for a moment when the ageing salarian had walked in with her, before looking appropriately composed.

She had accepted their offer of a partial Spectre reinstatement. Like it or not, the whole 'above the law' status that went with being a Spectre would be damned useful, even if she was confined to the Terminus Systems. She had warned them that she could not guarantee keeping to the Terminus, but that she would try. That had been met with frowns, but when she had pointed out that she was fighting effectively a shadow war, and so had no idea where she could end up next, they had accepted the caveat, albeit grudgingly..

But she had been tempted to throw it back in their faces. She had been so tempted. Her dear friend TIM hadn't been lying when he said that the council had denounced everything she had been saying about the Reapers, Saren and Sovereign, and instead blamed it all on the Geth. To say she had been pissed was an understatement. She had been so angry she had been giving off biotic flashes for a good hour afterwards when she had first verified it herself, and that it was not Cerberus feeding her a line to get her on their side.

Up until that point, Kythelea had been silent. Shepard could feel irritation radiating off her, but not directed at her or Anderson. It was directed squarely at the council, if her body posture was anything to go by.

The meeting had been about to finish when things began to go downhill

"A question," Kythelea said, her voice partly synthesised. Shepard guessed it was to hide their similarity, as they had both been reticent about not giving away Kythelea's past. "Where are the Elcor and Hanar Councilors?"

There was silence. Kythelea kept talking. "I understand there being no Volus or Drell Councilors, they are client races of the Turians and Hanar respectively, they can make their voices heard that way. But I've been unable to find a reason for the Elcor and the Hanar to have one."

"They haven't earned their place on the council," Tevos, the Asari councilor said, a hint of reproach in her voice.

"But I thought the Citadel was supposed to be an alliance of races," Kythelea countered quickly, "but alliances don't work when factions are not represented. So I'll ask again. Where are the Elcor and Hanar councilors?"

"I don't believe you have introduced yourself miss…?" Valern cut in, trying to redirect the conversation. Kythelea's helmeted gaze turned to the salarian.

"Major Kythelea Blackstone," she responded curtly, "and since you've been so kind to speak up, care to explain the Genophage?" Valern opened his mouth to respond, but Kythelea kept going. "I get you were in the middle of a war, and if you hadn't stopped the Krogan the galaxy as you knew it would have ended, but you should have realised when you uplifted the Krogan something like this could happen." Valern closed his mouth even as Tevos opened hers, but Kythelea just kept going. "What's worse is that you didn't even give the Krogan the option of a way out. You didn't give them the option of a possible cure if they met certain criteria. You just left them to die and didn't care. And don't give me any of that 'it was our predecessors not us' bantha crap, cause you sure as hell haven't done anything to make things better."

"Blackstone," Shepard warned, placing a hand on the other woman's arm, but Kythelea shrugged her off. Anderson was looking between them, his face caught half way between surprise, amusement, and puzzlement. Despite the synthesised voice, it seemed familiar to him. The blue armoured woman's posture, body language and attitude seemed familiar as well, though the armour she wore was completely unrecognisable.

"You made out the Krogan to be monsters, so they became monsters. They think they have no hope, so they don't care. They don't try and rebuild because they believe that it is a waste of effort. And what have you done to change that view? Nothing." Kythelea was on a roll now, and would have kept going if Shepard hadn't stepped between her and the holos of the council. Kythelea glared at Shepard through her helmet.

"I'm not done Shepard," she growled, "I haven't even-"

"Started on the Quarians, I know," Shepard cut over her. At Kythelea's twitch of surprise, Shepard shrugged. "I thought you would have trouble with that after what you said about Forex." Every one else looked between the two, puzzled. They were ignored, as Shepard and Kythelea stared each other down. Finally, Kythelea snarled.

"Fine, you win Shepard," she hissed. Her head twitched to the side, making it clear she was looking over the other woman's shoulder at the holos of the council, who were looking equal parts irritated and confused. "I'll wait outside, away from the _aruetii_." With that, Kythelea spun on her heel and marched out. Before she reached the door however, it opened, admitting Udina. He frowned and opened his mouth as Kythelea stormed towards him, doubtless about to demand who the hell she was and just what she was doing in the office of the human councilor. Unfortunately, Kythelea was in no mood to be stopped. Plus, while she didn't recognise him personally, she did recognise his type. A.K.A, career politician and general areshole. So in the interest of calming herself down, she did the only reasonable thing.

She punched him in the face.

It wasn't her full strength. Augmented by her armour, that probably would have broken his neck. Instead, Udina suddenly found himself flat on his back, his head ringing as a vague blue form strode past him. The door hissed shut behind her.

Silence…. Then-

"Why is it that everyone gets to punch him but me?" Shepard said, in a tone that was most definitely not a whine. Shepard did not whine… Usually.

"I'm sure you'll get your opportunity Shepard," Anderson said with a chuckle. The other councilors looked surprised and somewhat annoyed, although Shepard swore that Tevos had a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"Councilor Anderson, I'm afraid there are somethings that still need to be discussed that are not related to the Commander," Tevos said, having the decency to sound a little apologetic. She knew that Anderson and Shepard were close. Shepard nodded.

"I'll catch you later Anderson," she promised, "I'm going to be on the Citadel for a day or so."

"It was good to see you Shepard," Anderson said, shaking her hand, "especially good to hear your position on Cerberus." Shepard had made it clear, pointedly so, that she was only working with Cerberus because they were the only ones willing to provide her with the resources to tackle the Collectors, and that they would be told exactly what they could do with themselves the moment the Collectors had been dealt with.

Shepard bid her farewells to the council, and headed out, walking past Udina, who was leaning against the wall, holding his head and groaning. She was tempted to hit him as well, but then decided that, despite the fact that Udina was an arsehole of the highest order, it would leave her feeling like she had kicked a puppy.

Outside, Kythelea was pacing, projecting an aura that promised pain for anyone who got in her way. Shepard could sympathise. The council could be pretty arrogant at times. Still, it generally wasn't a good idea to rail on at the council.

"Feeling better?" She asked after a moment. Kythelea glanced at her, and Shepard deduced that no, Kythelea was not feeling better yet. She sighed. "Just forget about them, we got other things to do."

"Does that include getting a drink?" Kythelea asked, "I think I need one after listening to that lot." Shepard paused, thinking.

"That can be the evening plan," she said finally, "right now we need to go talk to an advertisement." The last sentence was said with irritation. Kasumi had better be worth it if she was going to have to look like an idiot talking to an advertisement.

* * *

"Why can't someone join me with no strings attached?" Shepard grumbled as Kasumi walked off, vanishing from sight. Now she had to add a heist to her to-do list. She liked the asian thief, what with her cheeky, cheerful attitude, but having more loaded onto her plate wasn't so good. She didn't so much mind doing the heist, it actually sounded like it could be good fun, although knowing her it would end with lots of explosions.

What annoyed her was that she would have to act, play a part that wasn't her. She wasn't a ruthless merc boss. It simply wasn't her. There was a difference between a tough military officer and a tough merc boss. A tough military officer would knock you around if you messed up. A tough merc boss would beat you within an inch of your life, then toss you out on to the streets.

"What, I don't qualify?" Kythelea asked, her tone amused even through the filter.

"You have baggage like no-ones business though," Shepard replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. She knew what the baggage was alright. She was the only one who did. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mordin glancing between them. His spidey sense (or should that be froggy sense?) was probably tingling like mad.

"Anyway," Shepard said, moving on quickly before Mordin could start asking questions, "I sent a message as we left the Normandy that everyone gets shore leave until tomorrow. I got some things to do before I can relax, but you two can go have some fun now." Mordin nodded and headed off, muttering something science-y that went over the heads of the two soldiers. Shepard was about to head off hunting for the supplies that Gardner wanted, but upon pulling up her omni-tool noticed the date and, more importantly, the time. Any cheerfulness dropped from her face. Without another word she spun on her heel and vanished into the depths of the Citadel, typing rapidly on her omni-tool, leaving Kythelea confused and bewildered. She pulled up her own omni-tool and looked at the date and time.

11/11/2185. 10:23am.

Shepard hurried through the Citadel, quickly grabbing a taxi and heading down into Zakera ward. She drummed her fingers on the door of the car as it zipped alone, constantly checking the time. It was going to be tight. Bringing up her omni-tool, she double checked the location, then almost leapt out the car as it landed. With a quick pace that was only just off a run, she made it to the doors of the church.

Shepard wasn't religious, not like Ashley anyway. However, she respected the beliefs of others, and always did her best to attend two church services over the years, something instilled in her by her parents. The first was Christmas, either a carol service in the weeks before, or a service on the day itself. Her rational was that if you were going to celebrate it, you had to remind yourself that there was more to it than just food and presents, and that it was in fact a religious festival, despite the fact that it was celebrated by most humans in one form or another, regardless of religion.

The second was different.

The second was Remembrance Day.

After Mindoir, after Elysium, this day had taken on new importance. Many members of the Alliance would, at the very least, observe a two minute silence to mark the ending of the first Great War, to remember those lost in conflict since. This time, there was some in particular she had to remember.

Kaidan Alenko.

The biotic had stayed behind with the bomb on Virmire, and had been vaporised in the blast. While she had lost men and women on Elysium, they had been part of a rag tag group, of which she was the only survivor. She hadn't really known them well, and while she had mourned them, their deaths did not weigh on her soul like Kaidan's did. She had left him behind, he hadn't fallen in the middle of a firefight. She had consciously, knowingly, left him behind, going after Ashley and the Salarians. She had had nightmares for a while afterwards, where his burnt and charred body had risen from an ash strewn field, face stricken with a combination of pain and anger. She had been slated for therapy after the hunting down the Geth, but then the Collectors had killed her. With her mind now so focused on the Collectors, she hadn't had anymore nightmares.

She hoped it stayed that way.

She slipped into the back of the church, sliding her pistol, the only weapon on her, in a rack in the entrance room, where police issue sidearms rested, indicating that a number of C-Sec personal were here, and also explaining why the rack was there in the first place. She continued through, accepting the order of service from a young girl at the door. She had made it just in time.

The minister stood, and began with the poem that had become a hallmark of such services, 'In Flanders Fields'. The congregation, standing silently, listened as other poems were read, each recounting war and its tragedies. Then came the silence, the Last Post. Shepard stood with her head bowed, eyes closed, just keeping back tears. To everyone else, Kaidan had died over two years ago.

To her, it had been a little over two months.

When Reveille played and her eyes opened, she let the tears tickle down her face. They were tears that had gone through death to be shed, tears that had waited more than two years to be shed. But with their shedding came a huge relief, a feeling of weight being lifted off her shoulders.

When she left the church an hour after entering, she did so with her shoulders back, and her head held high. She had paid her respects at last, and her soul was lighter for doing so.

When she fell asleep that night, she stood on a the same ash strewn field she had seen so many times before. But this time, when Kaidan rose from the ashes, he did not look pained, or angry. He was still burnt and bloody, but this time, there was a small smile on his face. He gave her a nod, a smile, and saluted her. Then he vanished.

* * *

 **Terminus Systems**

The Dragoness finished her prayers. Where before on this day they had been more mournful, now they were hopeful. Circumstances had changed since the last time she had held this small, personal service, where she remembered those closest to her. All of them had fallen in combat, that or had been taken at the same time she had, and then not seen since.

They were likely dead. Batarian slaves tended not to last long.

She had been lucky to say the least, to have survived for 7 years as a slave, and only because she had proven to be very good with tech, especially starship tech. Otherwise she would have just been shot once she was too big to crawl into the tight engineering spaces in the Batarian ship that had been her home and prison. It had been the trust that the Batarians place in her to look after the ship after 7 years, thinking that she had been broken to their will, that allowed her to escape, as she was able to fake a serious drive core failure while the ship was on course to dock at Omega that allowed her to escape, as everyone became more concerned with getting off the ship than watching the slaves. She had fled the ship by stealing an ill fitting hardsuit and climbing out the trash ejector. Smelly, but it had worked. A streak of luck over the following year had earned her enough favours with a gunsmith to her the custom M-11 that now sat in its case, and then, at barely 16, she had performed her hostile takeover.

The rest was history.

She lit the candles on the table before her, each next to a picture that meant the world to her. She had gotten so a paranoid about them that their frames were designed to resist sniper fire, and could probably survive planetary re-entry. But they meant too much to her to lose.

She moved the match over to the last candle… and hesitated. Normally she would light it, just as she would light to the others, but now….

In the end she lit it. Not in remembrance of someone dead, but in hope of reconciliation. After a moment, she left her cabin, heading down to the bridge once more. Rani was there, tapping away at her terminal. The Asari glanced up as her boss entered.

"Mi'lady," she said. The Dragoness huffed.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"A few," Rani said with a tender smile. The two were not lovers, the Dragoness didn't swing that way, but Rani had been with her through thick and thin, and was her confidant above all else. The two were almost surrogate sisters to each other, despite the 218 year age gap. It had helped that the Dragoness had saved her from being sold as a slave shortly after taking command of her first ship. And decimating the slaver group that had been about to sell her.

"A few? Try a few hundred," Tolena called from her seat in the cockpit, her dual toned voice trilling slightly in amusement.

"Now now ladies," the Dragoness said teasingly, "no fighting while on duty." While the crew was close, some of them really could squabble like siblings. It made her feel like she was the mother to a lot of kids. If you forgot the fact that a number of the kids were older than her, some by centuries.

"Yes mi'lady," they said together, causing the Dragoness to roll her eyes behind her mask and the rest of the crew in the bridge to laugh. She took her seat on her throne, working through system reports, logistic approvals and raid and intelligence reports.

 _Eclipse attacked a Cerberus base… took someone hostage…_

 _Carol's killed her latest boy toy… should start calling her Black Widow, that's number 6. Pity… he was supposed to be good looking…_

 _Batarian slave run disrupted… four-eyed bastards…_

 _Hello…_

She pulled up a report from an agent of hers within the Blue Suns. Her eyes flicked down it, the froze. She reread it, slowly.

"Tolena!" She called out. The pilot spun her seat around, eye ridges going up in questioning. "Sending you coordinates. Set a course to them." When the turian's eye ridges didn't drop, she told her why they were going there. The bridge crew went deathly silent. They knew, like all of the ships crew, exactly who their boss was. Tolena swung her chair back around and began hammering away at her controls, altering the course, taking them to the nearest relay.

"ETA is 14 hours mi'lady," Tolena called back, "let's just hope that we don't get shot at when we arrive."

"You want us to get shot at you crazy woman," the Dragoness retorted, "you like dancing around ships and blowing out their engines. Sometimes I swear you think this is a frigate, not a heavy cruiser."

Tolena gave a bark of laughter. "What can I say mi'lady? It's part of my nature to make things go boom."

"As long as its not the Wyvern, The Dragoness muttered.

"You wound me!" Tolena exclaimed in mock protest. "I would never dare harm this beautiful ship!" She wasn't lying either, despite the faux offence in her voice. She'd rather cut off her own limbs before deliberately sabotaging the ship. Partly because she was the ships pilot, partly because the Dragoness would cut off her arms and legs before beating them to death with said limbs.

She would also piss of Eni in the process. Something that was considered to be ill advised at best, and a death sentence at worst.

"Honestly, we're more likely to find the place in pieces," Rani remarked from her position at her terminal. "Trouble does seem to follow them."

"True," the Dragoness chuckled. Her face dropped, becoming a combination of thoughtful and nervous. Rani picked up on her expression rather quickly.

"You'll be fine," she said, placing a hand on the other woman's arm. "Considering all that you've been through, and all that they have done, it'll become obvious why you didn't get back in contact." The Dragoness looked unconvinced. As she was on her ship, away form prying eyes, she wasn't wearing a mask, thus the worry in her eyes was clear to her XO.

"I hope you're right," she said, a hint of worry creeping into her voice. "Either way, I don't think she'll take it quietly."

* * *

Kythelea stepped back from her footlocker, letting it drop shut. It was one of two lockers she had, one for her armour and weapons, as well as sensitive items or information only from her dimension, with a password and fingerprint scanner built in, the password in Mandalorian just to make the lives of any thief (Miranda, and now Kasumi) more difficult, since Mandalorian was very different from any other language she could find in this dimension. Her second was normal clothes and the like. If someone were to go through it, they wouldn't find anything to give away her origins.

At least if Kasumi stole something from her, she would be doing it because she was a kleptomaniac, and not because she wanted her tech.

She did have to stifle down a chuckle at the thought of Kasumi. The petite woman wanted help with a heist of all things, and it seemed that Shepard would have to infiltrate a party. A smart party at that. That meant a dress, since Blues and armour were out the question.. When Kythelea had commented on that once she had located Shepard once more from where ever she had vanished too, the biotic woman had begun to glow slightly in irritation. It seemed she hated dresses, or at least the short ones that Kasumi had sent pictures of as suggestions. Kythelea could empathise though. Give her trousers over a skirt any day of the week.

"Major?" EDI said, pulling Kythelea out of her thoughts. She glanced towards the ceiling.

"What is it EDI?" She asked, thought suspecting the answer.

"Commander Shepard requests your presences in the conference room," the AI replied.

"Thank you EDI, tell her I'll be there shortly," Kythelea replied. She pulled on the bottom most bodysuit of her armour, anticipating why she was being called, then headed up to deck 2. Her eyes immediately narrowed upon entering. Miranda was in one corner, typing away on her omni-tool. Their eyes met, and the room grew colder at once. Nothing was said, but the hostility was still there. Garrus was in the other corner. He glanced between the two, and eye ridge going up, but said nothing. He wasn't foolish.

"Good, all here," Shepard said from where she leant against the table. She tapped a few buttons on her omni-tool, and a holographic ship popped into light over the table.

"This is Purgatory," she said, "it's a vast prison ship that houses some of the worst criminals that aren't dead or on Omega. Not long ago they accepted known as, according to the dossier I've been given, Subject Zero, supposedly the most powerful human biotic alive." Here Shepard glanced at Miranda, making clear that she suspected Cerberus had something to do with the name. You don't get a name like that from your parents after all. "Cerberus has paid a large sum of money to Purgatory in order to get Jack on our team. We're going to oversee the final transfer of money and the pick up of Subject Zero." She glanced at the assembled team. "Miranda, you're coming with us because you're Cerberus, you can double check the terms of the deal."

"The Blue Suns won't cross us," Miranda stated. "They're getting paid too much to risk it." Her eyebrow had gone up slightly at the subtle jab at her and who she worked for.

"You'd be amazed," Garrus said, "the number of times that I saw deals go sour on Omega, some of excellent deals, was ridiculous. We'd end up just waiting until only a few mercs were left and mop up the survivors. Admittedly those deals didn't involve millions of credits, just tens of thousands… but still."

"Never underestimate greed, whether of power or money," Kythelea put in. She could see both sides of the argument. "They might think by taking us captive or killing us they could gain more." Her mouth turned up in a humourless smile. "I've seen it myself."

"Why do you think you're coming Blackstone?" Shepard said with humourless chuckle. "You're a walking arsenal. They'll think twice." She turned to Garrus. "You're here for two reasons. One, the guy who runs this place is supposed to be a Turian. You can give me info on him by appearance that I might miss. Two, you know mercs like the back of your hand. If there's a better merc killer I don't know of them."

"That's because you haven't looked in a mirror Shepard," Garrus said dryly. "Now me, I don't look in a mirror. It'll shatter due to being unable to reflect such perfection back."

"You mean your hideous visage?" Shepard tossed back at him with a grin, "That explains why I had to replace all the mirrors in the men's washrooms on the SR-1 every time we docked." Miranda and Kythelea were watching the exchange like they were following a game of tennis, eyes flicking back and forth.

"That was Wrex," Garrus rebutted smoothly, "he would grin every time he finished cleaning his teeth and they'd shatter."

"Wrex is a Krogan," Shepard pointed out, "I don't think they do clean their teeth."

Garrus paused at that. "True," he conceded. Shepard's grin grew wider.

"So it was your fault then?" Garrus spluttered and stuttered for a reply. Shepard laughed, Kythelea chuckled, and even Miranda was stifling a grin. Finally Garrus tossed his arms up in exasperation and fell silent with a huff.

"All right," Shepard said when she finished laughing, "gear up everyone, we arrive in an hour."

* * *

 **AN:** If you are wondering why I put in the Remembrance Day service, the answer is simple. I am the child of a soldier. I plan to go into the army myself one day. Above all, we must remember just how many die in battle, to keep us from having to see first hand the horrors of war.

There are unfortunates in the Middle East who are dealing with it right now.

On to more positive things, there are a few more hints towards just who the Dragoness is. I'm tossing up between having her identity revealed within the next couple of chapters, or dragging it out longer. We'll see. Though if someone doesn't get who she is after this chapter, I'll be a little surprised. The clues are there... can you decipher them?

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.

 **EDIT 30/11/16:** Replaced 'Dar'mando', which was a) not an actually word b) the incorrect word for the circumstances. It has been replaced by 'Aruetii'.


	11. Prison Break

**AN:** I had an attack of the muse... You get a chapter early!

Enjoy!

* * *

Kythelea leant against the wall as Purgatory came into view. It was a massive starship, once used for transporting this galaxy's version of Bantha and the like, but it had been captured by the Blue Suns and turned into a prison ship. It reminded her of the spine of some massive creature, flesh all picked away, leaving only the stark white bone behind.

"Cheerful looking place, isn't it?" Joker said as he piloted them in.

"Sure is," Kythelea said. Her eyes flicked along its length. "Reckon they do holidays here? I'd like to get a brochure."

"Welcome to Purgatory," Joker snarked, "stunning utilitarian bulkheads and all the dangerous psychopaths you could dream of." Kythelea laughed, then turned at the sound of armoured footfalls. It was Garrus, suited up in his dark blue armour, hole and all.

"Y'know, I would have gotten that armour fixed by now," Kythelea remarked, "you certainly had the opportunity to in the Citadel."

Garrus shrugged. "Call it a reminder of my idiocy." His words were casual, but there was a bitterness and anger in his eyes that Kythelea knew well. It had once been in her own. Then he smirked. "But then again, I'm also a guy. I don't care how my stuff looks provided that it works. As a lady you are far more worried about your appearance."

"I'm not some weak politician's wife," Kythelea shot back, "I'm military, near born and bred. Dresses and dolls didn't ever appeal to me. If I was concerned with how I looked, I wouldn't have become a solider."

Garrus raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright you've convinced me. Just warn us if you need to fix your mascara mid fight. Wouldn't be fair for the idiots shooting at us to ruin your hours of hard work."

"You're the one in need of makeup Garrus," Kythelea said with a grin, "something needs to hide your hideous excuse for a face. At least cover the scars." Garrus huffed, pretending to be offended.

"I'll have you know that some women like scars, they think they add character," Garrus stated. Kythelea raised her eyebrows. "Admittedly, most of those women are Krogan," the turian added after a moment.

Joker laughed. "Don't got to Tuchanka then Garrus," he advised, his tone somewhere between sage and sarcastic, "you'll never be able to leave. The females will have you locked up somewhere." Kythelea chuckled as well, though Garrus was sporting a look that was a mix of exasperation, injured, and a little worried.

Two more pairs of footsteps heralded the arrival of Miranda and Shepard. Shepard's helmet was clipped to her belt. Instead of the normal N7 style armour, she wore a heavy set of black armour trimmed with glowing red lines.

"Terminus Assault armour?" Garrus asked/stated, "haven't seen one of those suits in quite a while."

Shepard gave him a grin. "Apparently working for Timmy means you get some nice toys. I don't like him, but I do trust that he wants the Collectors stopped if nothing else." Kythelea agreed with Shepard. She hadn't spoken to the man himself, but from what she had heard the Illusive Man would fit right into the Empire, being extremely pro-human and having few, if any, scruples.

While Garrus made a comment about Shepard and shiny things, Kythelea's gaze slid over to Miranda. The woman was, for once, not wearing something that looked like it had been painted onto her skin. The thigh high heeled boots had also gone. In their place was a set of light armour, segmented over the lower torso and arms. A helmet was clipped to the raven-haired woman's belt, a smooth golden visor covering the front. Kythelea eyed the armour with a critical gaze, then met Miranda's gaze. Icy azure met hard emerald. The others noticed, falling silent. Garrus tensed slightly, but Shepard just folded her arms and looked between the two.

"Seems you can learn," Kythelea said after another moment. Then she grinned suddenly, but the grin could not really be described as amused or happy. Instead, it looked closer to devious. "We'll make a proper solider of you yet." She clapped Miranda on the shoulder, slightly startling the other woman, then slipped her helmet on and headed into the airlock. Shepard and Garrus shared surprised looks, before Shepard followed after Kythelea. Miranda seemed to gather herself once more and followed the other two women, leaving Garrus standing next to Joker. The two men shared a look.

"I hate to break it to you buddy but… you're screwed," Joker said, his tone a mix of sympathy and amusement. Garrus' expression morphed into one that could only be described as 'why me?'

"Now I want the whole thing to go to hell," Joker said, a grin spreading across his face, "those poor mercs would not stand a chance against all that femme fatale."

That made Garrus grin, well, try to anyway. "I'd be able to sit back and do nothing."

"You coming Garrus?" Shepard called out the airlock. Garrus gave Joker a nod and joined the ground team.

* * *

They were met by five guards, a mix of Turians and humans. A helmeted turian stepped forward.

"Welcome to Purgatory Commander Shepard," he said politely, a first among the mercs they had met. But then again, most of the other mercs they had met had been trying to kill them, and vice versa. "The package is being prepped, and you can collect it shortly. As this is a high security facility, you will need to relinquish your weapons before proceeding." That set off alarm bells in the heads of every member of Shepard's team. While it was understandable that they be asked to give up their weapons, there were also only four of them, and it wasn't like they were going to start a prison break. Shepard folded her arms across her chest.

"It's my policy to keep my gun," she said shortly, a hand resting on her pistol. The guards noticed this, and gripped their own weapons tighter. Kythelea shifted her stance slightly, her drawn assault cannon rising a few degrees, while Miranda's biotics began to flare a little. Garrus, who also had his Phaeston drawn, tensed. There was a short silence.

"Everyone stand down," a dual tone voice commanded as the door opened behind the guards. An older Turian with a Revenant LMG on his back stepped forward. Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard saw Garrus' mandibles flare slightly in anger. "Commander, I'm Warden Kyrik, in charge of Purgatory," the turian, Kyrik, said. "I know you might not like having to be unarmed, but it's a matter of policy. I'm sure you understand." Shepard might not have been a Turian, so she couldn't here the undertones in the Warden's voice, but Garrus was almost snarling. She assumed he was being condescending.

"I'm not giving up my gun," she said firmly, meeting the turian's gaze head on. There was several seconds of tense silence, Shepard and Kyrik trying to stare each other down.

The turian blinked first.

"Let them pass," he said to the guards, "Our facility is more than equipped to handle a few armed guests." You didn't have to be a turian to here the touch of contempt in his tone. Everyone relaxed.

Slightly.

Both sides remained wary of the other, but weapons were no longer gripped so tightly as Shepard and her team passed by them. Kyrik proceed to tell them about the prison, how it held hundreds of prisoners in high security blocks, and how each prisoner brought in a fee form their homeworld.

"So what happens if the planet can't or won't pay?" Kythelea asked, voicing the question that they all had on their minds, though the answer seemed fairly obvious.

"Then we inform the planet that we have no choice but to return the prisoner to an unspecified place and at an unspecified time and date," Kyrik answer calmly.

"You're running an extortion racket by another name," Garrus snarled.

"I make the hard choices governments are unwilling to make," Kyrik countered, "they haven't seen the things I've seen, the things you've seen Vakarian." At the surprise on Garrus' face Kyrik's mandibles fluttered in amusement. "I know you were C-Sec, half the galaxy does, after what your little crusade against Saren. Can you honestly tell me that a place like this isn't needed?"

"Good idea, flawed execution," Miranda countered. She had remained quiet so far, but her expression had had an edge of irritation in it, and edge that was now far more obvious to see.

"For once I agree with the Ice Queen," Kythelea added, which had her teammates giving her mild looks of surprise. The rivalry between them was no small matter, but one that had the crew members quietly betting on how long it would be before the two got into a fight. And who would win of course.

Kyrik glared at them. "Out processing is just down the hall," he said, changing the subject, "I'll go make sure that the money has transferred." He turned and stalked off.

"He's a bareface," Garrus growled as soon as the Warden was out of earshot. At Kythelea's questioning look he elaborated. "He's got no colony markings on his face," he said, gesturing to the blue markings on his own face. "There's a story to go with it, but it basically boils down to this. A bareface cannot be trusted. At all."

Garrus was proved right when they reached the door at the other side of out processing. It hissed open to reveal a cell, exactly like the ones the various prisoners had been in.

"My apologies Commander," Kyrik voice came over hidden speakers, "but you're more valuable to me as a prisoner. Lay down your weapons and step into the cell. You will not be harmed."

The ground team shared a look. "Go to hell," Shepard said, removing her helmet from its attachment point on her waist. "I'll send you there myself." She slid her helmet on, as did Garrus and Miranda. Kythelea had already been wearing hers. As the various HUDs flickered into life, the doors at the other end of the room hissed open, allowing mercs to flood the room. They were blown apart as Kythelea opened up with her underbarrel launcher, sending a barrage of grenades into the Blue Suns. This bought enough time for the others to properly secure their helmets and draw weapons. Moments later, Shepard and Miranda opened fire with their SMGs, the Tempest and Hornet adding their fury to the wall of lead and plasma. Garrus' Phaeston opened up a moment later, cutting into a Blue Sun legionnaire with lethal accuracy. As the man toppled, there was a moment of calm. A calm that lasted just long enough for Shepard to draw her Eviscerator.

"Let's go get Jack," Shepard said calmly, activating the incendiary ammo mod in her shotgun. "EDI? Can you get us a path to Jack?"

"Yes Commander," the AI quickly responded. "Head left out the door and continue to the end of the hall. Beyond the door is a control room for Jack's cryo-tube." Shepard nodded, and the group ran out to the control room, cutting down mercs and FENRIS mechs alike with precise bursts of fire or judicial application of biotics, including one merc who was unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a biotically enhanced roundhouse. There wasn't much left of the turian's head.

The technician who tried to stop the advancing squad from accessing the terminal overlooking the cyro-chamber found himself on the receiving end of a blue armoured fist. Unlike when she punched Udina, Kythelea didn't hold back on the power, and the man's neck gave a crack as it broke. Miranda moved over to the terminal and began tapping away, then stopped and muttered a curse under her breath.

"Shepard if we activate this console we'll get Jack out of cryo, but we'll also open every cell on the ship," she said, her tone clearly concerned. "It will be utter madness."

Shepard shrugged. "We don't really have much choice, especially if we want to get out of here in a reasonable length of time." She leant across Miranda and entered the command.

Below them, YMIR mechs whirred into life as the cryo-tube rose from its housing. They turned to face the opening cryo-tube.

Within the control room, there was silence as they looked down at Jack.

"That's Jack?" Garrus asked, surprised. Shepard couldn't blame him. From what she had heard, she would have thought that Jack was a huge man, built like an ox.

Instead, Jack was a young woman, skinny, bald, covered in tattoos and barely wearing anything to cover her torso. A moment later, she woke with a gasp. She quickly removed her restraints, dropping to the floor with a cough. She snapped her head up as the mechs moved towards her, weaponry raised. With a savage cry, she launched herself forward, biotic power coalescing around her small body, slamming into the mechs with more power than any of them had seen before.

"We have to get down to there!" Shepard said, running towards the door, the rest of the squad quickly following. When they got into the cryo-chamber, instead of finding one dead biotic, they instead found three wrecked heavy mechs and a hole in the bulkhead.

"Bloody hell," Shepard said as they took in the sight. They had been told Jack was powerful, but seeing this made her realise just _how_ powerful she was. Shepard was pretty confident that, if she was in Jack's position, should could not have taken down three mechs and then blown open the bulkhead. She was a Vanguard, not an Adept.

"Now I see why the Illusive Man wanted her," Miranda said grimly. She shifted her gaze to the Commander. "I hope you can control her."

"So do I," Shepard said, her face from beneath her helmet, "now come one, we need to get moving."

* * *

The fight through the ship was gruelling to say the least. Their opposition was not that tough, a mix of prisoners, mercs and the odd heavy mech. What made it difficult was that Jack had just smashed her way through the ship regardless of who or what was in her way, and was causing heavy damage to the superstructure.

That meant fires and falling debris.

"Yippee," Kythelea drawled as she avoided getting brained by the umpteenth piece of falling steel, "I always wanted to fight through a ship that was falling apart." She brought her cannon around in an arc, vibroblade extended, gutting a Batarian.

"Wonderful isn't it?" Shepard agreed, yanking an escaped prisoner into the air and blasting him with her shotgun. "Joker, how's the Normandy?"

" _We're doing fine Commander,"_ Joker replied, _"I sent Grunt to play doorman and… hang on."_ The squad fought in silence for a moment, but they were concerned. _"Shit, Shepard you need to hurry up."_

"What's happened?" Shepard demanded, charging into a turian and blowing out his chest.

" _There's a ship on the approach to Purgatory, one we really don't want to tangle with,"_ Joker said.

"What's the ship? The Collector's ship?" Shepard asked.

" _No, It's the_ Night Wyvern, _"_ Joker said grimly. Garrus and Miranda jerked at the name, but Shepard and Kythelea were non-plused.

"Why's it so dangerous?" Shepard asked, confusion in her voice.

"Shepard that ship is the flagship of the Dragoness of the Terminus," Garrus said grimly, "its one of a kind heavy cruiser, and I've heard its got a thrust to weight ratio of a frigate. The _Normandy_ might be able to out run it, but little else will."

Shepard's expression became a grimace. "Great, one of the big shots of the Terminus is here. Joker have the _Normandy_ ready to go as soon as we get back." Kythelea made a mental note to look up the Dragoness.

" _You don't need to tell me twice,"_ Joker said.

"Why the hell is the Dragoness here?" Miranda wandered out loud.

"There were rumour that this place sold prisoners to slavers," Garrus said, "no reason to think they wouldn't sell to pirates as well."

"I thought the Dragoness hated slavers though," Shepard said, moving up to the next door. "This seems like the kind of place she would tear down." Garrus could only shrug at that.

In the next room, they found Kyrik. The warden had taken up position on a high platform over looking one of the cell blocks, and, with a squad of Blue Suns, was gunning down prisoners left right and centre. He spotted them almost as soon as they entered.

"You should have come quietly Shepard," Kyrik snarled, opening fire on the squad, forcing them into cover. "I could have sold you and lived like a king." Another burst of fire slammed into their cover, keeping their heads down. "But you're too much trouble! At least I can recapture Jack," the turian growled.

"You're a two bit slave trader," Shepard snarled back, "I don't have time for you." She glanced around, quickly locating the pylons creating the energy barrier around the warden.

"Garrus, take out the pylon," she order, pointing towards the one closet to them. Second later, Garrus' Mantis cracked, and pylon went dark, the bullet punching clean through. The stream of energy cut off.

"Miranda, go with Garrus and get the pylon at our three o'clock," Shepard ordered. "I'll take Kythelea and get the other one." The two nodded and moved off, precise bursts of fire killing or suppressing the Blue Suns. Shepard turned to Kythelea.

"Shall we?" She asked. Kythelea's response was shift into a low crouch, ready to spring out of cover. Moments later, the two burst forward, guns blazing. Kythelea was firing on the move, her assault Cannon spraying bursts of plasma into mercs, while Shepard went into CQB, pistol drawn. Her other was covered by an omni-blade, which lanced out to take the throat of a human, even as her pistol blew the head off a batarian. A Turian legionnaire had their chest blown open when Kythelea unloaded a high impact bolt into him.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sheaprd saw the second pylon flicker out. Raising her pistol, she fired three times into their pylon, blowing it to pieces. "Get him Garrus," she ordered over the comms, ducking behind cover as a barrage of fire from the Warden raked her position.

Moments later, Garrus' Mantis spoke again. Kyrik stumbled, then dropped to the floor, dead.

* * *

They found Jack just before they got back to the _Normandy._ She was arguing with someone, or rather with several people.

"Why can't I come with you?" She was saying to the group. "It's either you or Cerberus, and I sure as hell am not going with them."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not Cerberus," Shepard cut in. Jack whirled around biotics flaring.

"Who the fuck are you?" She snarled. Shepard removed her helmet, making her identify clear to any who had read the news in the last few years.

"Commander Shepard," she said bluntly, "I take it you're Jack."

"Yeah," Jack said shortly, "why the fuck do you care?"

"I'm here to offer you a chance to do something other than be a criminal," Shepard said. "I getting together a team to take on the Collectors, and I'm lacking in biotic powerhouses. Your name came up."

"You arrive on that ship?" Jack asked, pointing at the _Normandy._ When Shepard nodded she snarled. "Then you _are_ Cerberus."

"An alliance of convenience," Shepard countered, "I want to stop the Collectors, so do they. They gave me a ship, supplies, and intel, but otherwise I run the show." She met Jack's angry gaze head on. "So you coming with me? Or you going to stay behind and die on this prison when the core blows?"

"Could go with the Dragoness," Jack said, eyes narrowing.

"She said she didn't want you," Shepard rebutted. "Besides, you're an unknown, and one of the few things that ONI knows is that the Dragoness doesn't let anyone aboard her ship without some kind of test. I doubt that's changed in the last 2 years that I was dead." One the figures in the group beyond Jack jerked. Shepard's gaze switched to the figure as it pushed past Jack, despite an exclamation of protest from the convict. Five paces from Shepard, the person stopped. Garrus had gone stock still except for a hand twitching towards his pistol, and Miranda was tense as well.

Standing in front of Shepard, pistol drawn but lowered, was the Dragoness of the Terminus.

She was in her infamous combat gear, a dark grey set of light armour. Over the shoulders was a scarlet cape, that covered her shoulders and swept down to just above her ankles, still leaving plenty of room for movement, and swept up into a hood that covered her helmet. The helmet itself was somewhat unique, a smooth dome with a snarling dragon carved onto the faceplate. On her right shoulder was her symbol, the crossed daggers and snarling dragon head. The Dragoness was an inch shorter than Shepard, which meant her head was tilted back every so slightly.

No one moved. No one wanted to start a fire fight. Shepard was a brilliant soldier, that was widely accepted, but the Dragoness was said to be almost impossibly fast with a pistol.

"12th of April 2169," The Dragoness said suddenly, her voice partially obscured by a filter, but none the less had Shepard wondering just were she knew it from, "what happened?" Shepard frowned.

"Why do you want to know?" She asked, puzzled.

"If you want to see your sister, answer my question," the Dragoness shot back. Shepard stared, wide eyed. Garrus drew in a breath behind her, and even Miranda jerked in surprise. Kythelea remained motionless, but it was clear her attention was laser focused on the conversation.

"She's alive?" She whispered, "where?"

"Answer my question," the Dragoness said again. There was an edge of desperation in her voice.

"12th of April… There was a storm," Shepard said, still off balance from the revelation that her sister was alive. "My brother and sister and I were out building a raft out of logs and rope on the nearby lake. We were doing it in secret, we wanted to show my parents that we could do it by ourselves." Shepard frowned trying to remember. "We had got the raft together and were out on the water when the storm hit suddenly. We tried to get back to land, but the wind had whipped up waves. In the driving rain and wind, I almost didn't see my sister get pulled over board. We were almost at land by that point, and she was holding on, but then a wave hit the raft. The corner of the raft knocked into her, stunning her badly. She lost her grip and dropped under the water. I dived in after her, pulled her back up, managed to get her to breathe again. My brother abandoned the raft at this point, calling it a death trap and saying that we just swim back. We were only fifty meters or so away, so thankfully it wasn't too hard." Shepard blinked herself out of the memories. "We decided not to say what had happened to our parents." She met the Dragoness' gaze once again, and asked the question that had been on her mind, and probably on everyone's minds. "Why do you want to know?"

The Dragoness was silent for a moment, not moving. "Because only three people know what happened that day," she said at last.

Shepard nodded slowly at that, still slightly confused. Then her attention went back to what the Dragoness had said earlier. Her eyes hardened, and her biotics flared. "I've answered your question," she growled, "now where is my sister?"

Time seemed to pause. The universe seemed to take a breath. In their halls high and low, what ever gods there were paused, and looked at the two figures. Worlds away, dimensions away, several people paused in their activities as the Force hummed, seeming… pleased?

The moment passed.

With hesitant hands, the Dragoness reached up, pushed back her hood, and with a hiss of air, removed her helmet.

Nervous sky blue eyes met astonished, disbelieving, uncomprehending emerald. Raven hair was brushed back with a pair of fingers.

"Hey Ems," said Alexandria Shepard, the Dragoness of the Terminus, a nervous smile on her face, "been a while, hasn't it?"

* * *

 **AN:** ...

I make no apologies... though I'm pretty sure that a number of you got who the Dragoness was after the last chapter. I guess I gave too much away.

In case you are wondering as to what armour Miranda is wearing, its Cerberus Phantom armour, the version you can get in the Citadel DLC from ME3 for breaking the scoreboard in the Armax Arsenal Area. In case it wasn't obvious before now, I'm including a lot of ME3 stuff in this story, since a large chunk of it makes sense to have in an ME2 story.

Next time, Shepard's reaction... should be fun.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.

 **EDIT 29/11/16:** A slight alteration of dates for the event Shearpd describes, as 2175 was _after_ the Mindoir raid. Its now 2169.


	12. Reunion and Rage

**AN** : Here we are again. This may well be the only chpater to come out in December, what with Christmas and all, though I may do a bonus Christmas Omake.

I hope that you guys like the reunion. My style of writing can best be described as a 'stream of conscience', in that there is very little planning beyond a general outline at best. I tend to write what feels right.

A quick review response before we start

 **Manlitus:** Thanks for the correction on the Mando'a! I should probably mention that Kythelea isn't actually a Mandalorian, only Niveah, her sister, is. Niveah was formally adopted into a Mandalorian clan, and then cermented it by marrying Torien. Kythelea's knowledge of Mandalorians and Mando'a will be explained in the chapter.

And now, on with the story!

* * *

You could have heard a pin drop.

Despite the fact that the Purgatory was slowly blowing itself to pieces, there was nothing but silence in the entrance way. Even Jack, someone who normally didn't care for the feelings of others, realised that it would be better to keep silent.

Shepard meanwhile was staring at her sister. She had thought that after everything that she had seen chasing Saren, then _dying_ and being _resurrected_ , that nothing could surprise her.

And then this happened.

Alexandria was _alive!_

This wasn't a trick of the light, a dream, some drug induced hallucination. Her little sister was standing in front of her. Alive and whole. Older too, but it had been roughly 16 years since they had last seen each other during the slave raid on Mindoir, so that was to be expected. She knew it was her sister as well, something on a fundamental level told her that this was without a doubt Alexandria.

Behind her, Garrus had a look that was a mix of shock and anger. Shock that Shepard's sister was alive, anger that she was the Dragoness, someone whose deals and operations he had spent the better part of two years disrupting. He knew that Shepard had not known her sister was still alive, but he could not prevent the flash of betrayal that shot through him like a lightning bolt. Emily Shepard had always stood for justice, for all the good things in life, despite her soldier's pragmatism that would occasionally colour her decisions. That her sister was the second most powerful Terminus warlord was a bitter pill to swallow.

Miranda was torn. Part of her was thrilled. They knew who the Dragoness was at last, they could threaten to reveal it to the galaxy at large, use it as blackmail against both Shepard's to get them to further Cerberus' cause. A powerful Terminus warlord _and_ the best solider in a generation? They would be a formidable asset for Cerberus. Another part of her said that revealing Alexandria's identity to the galaxy at large would be a terrible mistake. Her reputation for ruthlessness, and occasional gross cruelty, was not unfounded, as had been evident when they had first tried to get an agent aboard her ship after her rise to power. He had been returned in pieces. Literally.

The third part of her mind jumped to her own sister, of how hard she had tried to hide Oriana. How would she feel if Oriana's location became known to her father? That was a question she didn't want answered.

A final, very small part began to wonder if the Galaxy could survive two Shepards, especially if they began to work together.

Kythelea was not looking at Alexandria. Instead, she watched Shepard, watching the disbelief tear across her face. She had guessed it was her sister the moment the Dragoness had demanded what had happened on a specific day. She wondered what she could do to help Shepard. Unlike with Niveah, whom they had known had run away from home, and had still kept in occasional contact with her and Aethulwuld, Alexandria had been thought dead, not unfairly, and had done nothing to change that even after she had escaped from slavery under the Batarians. And she wasn't a lone bounty hunter or mercenary. No, she had built up a criminal empire that did business across the Terminus. In fact, judging by earlier comments from the squad, it was entirely possible the only illegal business that she did not get involved in, and actively sort to eradicate, was slavery. Why was suddenly very clear.

She was pulled from her thoughts when Shepard took a tentative step towards her sister. Then another. Then a third, bringing her in front of Alexandria. The raven haired women still hadn't moved. Unsurprisingly, she looked almost identical to Niveah, minus the cybernetics on the bounty hunter's face, the result of a bounty nearly gone wrong in her early years. Same dark hair and blue eyes, same facial structure, same height, and it seemed the same preference for pistols over heavier weapons.

Slowly, Shepard raised her hands, cupping her sister's face with them, as if to touch her would confirm that she was really standing in front of her. Alexandria's smile become warmer.

Then, without any warning whatsoever, both women burst in tears, arms wrapping around each other in bear hugs. Ordinarily, Kythelea would have rolled her eyes in exasperation of women crying, but this time, she just smiled. She holstered her assault cannon. It wasn't needed anymore. She did however flick her pistol to stun. Jack was looking restless, and from her experience it was a good idea to have a blaster ready for when the started yelling, which seemed likely.

"How...?" Shepard finally managed to get out. The rest of the question did not need saying.

"How about I tell you _after_ we leave this vessel," Alexandria said, "I'd hate to die so soon after reuniting." Her tone was dry, though still very emotional. Kythelea couldn't help but chuckle. It sounded exactly like something that Niveah would say. Then again, it wasn't unsurprising. They were supposed to be dimensional doppelgängers after all.

"Yeah," Shepard said with a tearful laugh, "that would be dumb." She wiped away her tears, then looked back over at Jack, who was clearly getting impatient. "You coming with me, or are you going to stay here and die?"

"I'm not working with Cerberus," Jack snarled, "they're the ones who screwed me over." The two women stared each other down. "Look, I bet you got a lot of Cerberus files on that ship. You give me access, make it worth my while, and I'll come with you."

"You can't do that Shepard," Miranda cut in angrily.

"Aww, it pisses of the cheerleader," Jack sneered, "even better."

"If that's your price," Shepard said simply.

"So why are we still standing her?" Jack demanded. Shepard gestured with to the others, telling them to get on the ship, then turned to Alexandria, who had turned to talk to her own mixed squad. She turned as Garrus walked past her.

"You coming with me sis?" Emily asked. Alexandria nodded.

"I don't know what devices Cerberus has on that armour of yours," she said grimly, "I _really_ don't want them finding out anything about my ship." She smirked. "Besides, being a Terminus warlord makes you paranoid like nothing else." She walked quickly past Emily towards the access way to the _Normandy_. As such, she didn't see her sister's eyes narrow.

"Yeah," Emily muttered to herself, following after her sister. "We're going to need to talk about that."

* * *

Miranda sat in her office, staring at the computer screen in front of her. She was trying to type out her report to the Illusive Man on the mission just past. She had reached the last part of the report now. In other circumstances it probably would have been simple, just explaining how they had managed to get Jack on side. Not this time. This time, she was faced with a difficult decision.

Whether or not tell the truth about the Dragoness, who was currently in the conference room with the Commander.

The arguments were clear in her mind. The blackmail potential for this was huge. In other circumstances, she would not have hesitated, but the reputations of both women was fearsome. The problem of trying to lie to the Illusive Man was that the automatics sensors that EDI had would likely have filed a report to the leader of Cerberus, telling him that the _Night Wyvern_ had been docked with Purgatory. Then there was the niggling voice in the back of her head that kept saying one word.

 _Oriana_.

She made up her mind, and was about to continue her report, trying to find the best way to phrase it, but was interrupted when her door hissed open. In the door way stood Kythelea Blackstone, her helmet off, one hand resting on her pistol. Garrus was standing behind her, arms folded. For a moment, the two parties started at each other, both keeping their expressions blank. Then Miranda looked down, and continued typing her report. In front of her, she heard an intake of breathe, the kind that indicated someone was about to start speaking. Slightly enhanced senses were useful on occasion.

"It's not going in," Miranda stated, cutting in before who ever had been about to speak could start. She continued typing, not looking up.

Garrus and Kythelea looked at each other in surprise. They had expected to have an argument, to try and stop Miranda telling Cerberus about Alexandria. Instead, they had won without a fight, without having to interfere at all.

"Why?" Garrus asked the question that was on both their minds. Miranda paused her typing, then looked up at them after a moment. An eyebrow quirked upwards.

"Having the Dragoness as a personal enemy is unwise," she said dryly. "Yes it would be good blackmail material against both of them, but Shepard knows that I'm the one that sends the mission reports to the Illusive Man. It's my job as XO." She leant back from her computer. "If Cerberus suddenly knows the real identity of the Dragoness, I'll be the first one in the firing line, and she'll likely just hand me over to Alexandria." Miranda's face twisted into a grimace. "I like my limbs attached to my body, thank you."

"Yeah," Garrus said with a grimace of his own, "she does like dismemberment when sending a message." When Kythelea half turned to him, eyebrow raised, he elaborated. "When the Dragoness was just becoming a serious contender in the Terminus systems, anyone who double crossed her lost limbs. She's only ever been outright betrayed once. The man in question was slathered in animal fat, castrated, kneecapped and dropped just outside a varren den on Tuchunka." Kythelea's eyes went wide. Niveah had been ruthless, that came with the territory of being a bounty hunter, and she could be brutal, but she was very rarely outright cruel. She cursed in Mandalorian.

"What language is that?" Miranda asked, genuine curiosity in her voice. "My translator doesn't understand it all."

"Mandalorian, or to be more precise, mando'a," Kythelea answered. Before she would not have given the Cerberus operative, but she felt that the raven haired women deserved at least a small bit of information for not talking about Alexandria. "Its my sister's adopted language."

"Adopted?" Garrus asked, curious.

"Mandalorians are not a race, they are a people linked by a common code," Kythelea said. "It's a warriors code, and its possible for anyone to become one if you adopted in to one of the clans, which my sister was, regardless of race." She rolled her shoulders, thinking about what she could tell, as well as what she could remember. "It's not a religion, there's no deity involved, but there are dualistic elements in it. I'm not Mandalorian myself, but I've studied the code and practises, and I speak the language pretty well. Kinda learnt it as a hobby."

"So where is the Mandalorian, well, homeworld?" Miranda asked, "I've never heard of them."

Kythelea smirked. "A long way from here," she said. While her face smiled though, her eyes were sad. Thinking of the Mandalorians had made her think of her own sister. Shepard had hers back.

She didn't.

Suddenly the ship shook. The three of them looked around alarmed, then they looked up, where the shaking had come from.

"That was biotics," Miranda said seriously. They looked at each other for a moment, then shot towards the lift.

* * *

 _Shortly Before…._

Emily stood across from her sister in the conference room. She had replaced her helmet while they walked through the ship, but removed it once they had reached the conference room, only to replace it with one of her infamous half masks, this one gold and green.

"So what happened?" Shepard asked. She didn't need to specify what she meant. What happened on Mindoir?

Alexandria sighed. "Wrong place, wrong time, doing the wrong thing. You remember that I was part of the engineering after school club right? When the Batarians attacked everyone else had already left, gone home. I was still there fiddling with this drone I was trying to make. Mr Volkov was watching over me, making sure I didn't do something stupid like solder my own finger. I was only 8 after all." Alexandria's lips twitched into a half smile. "Anyway, when the attack hit he told me to hide in one of the cupboards and not come out until someone came to get me. The Batarians had landed between us and the shelter. He left without actually making sure that I did so. That meant I had free reign of the workshop. I started making traps." Emily's eyebrows shot up at that.

"How the hell would you know how to make traps?" She asked.

"Volkov was ex-Alliance remember?" Alexandria replied. "When we were supposed to be making clocks and mini light boards, he would instead be telling us about simple traps, non lethal ones of course. Well actually he would tell it to the older kids, the ones who were considering joining the Alliance, I snuck in the back of the class room. When he tried to kick me out the room I asked him why he wanted to stop me from learning, and when he said I was too young for that kind of stuff I kicked him in the shin."

Emily goggled at her sister. Samuel Volkov had been a bear of a man, the kind of man whose hands were the size, and approximate shape, of spades. Alexandria smirked at her sister's expression.

"I probably hurt myself more than I hurt him, but he gave that big booming laugh of his, said I had fire, and could stay as long as I promised to behave," Alexandria's expression turned sad. "I know him and our parents didn't get on that well, but he was kinda like an uncle to me." She was silent for a moment. "When he ran out the room, I began to make the traps, as well as grab a few that he had in one of the lockers. Shock mines, pepper bombs, flour bombs, trip wires. I was thankful that my memory was so good, meant I didn't have to keep referring to my omni-tool for how to make them. When the Batarians reached the workshop they got a face-full of flour. One of them tried to shoot through it. Idiot made it explode. Didn't actually hurt them much, just knocked them on their arses and scorched their armour. I tossed a pepper bomb at one of them who didn't have a helmet one and legged it out of their. Managed to set up a few shock mines before they found me again. I generally made their lives hell for the next quarter of an hour before they finally caught me, mostly because I was just too tired from running." Alexandria's fingers drummed on the table.

"So why didn't they just kill you?" Emily asked, "I know they killed other children that day."

"The captain of one the ships was part of the group chasing me," Alexandria said, her lips becoming a thin line, "it seemed he was impressed that a child was capable of putting together traps for his men for as long as I did. He ordered me collared and brought aboard his ship, where I was given to the chief engineer and told to learn or die. So I learnt. I was small, I could get into places that the adults couldn't, getting at wiring or conduits that would have otherwise required the ship to be properly docked, possibly even in dry dock, if they needed fixing or replacing. By the time I got too big to fit in the tight spaces I had learnt enough that I was still valuable to the chief engineer. He was actually the closet thing I've come across to a 'nice' Batarian."

"So how did you get off the ship?" Emily asked.

"Faked an drive core fault, stole a hardsuit and climbed out the trash compactor after the ship had docked with Omega. Luck and prayer got me through," Alexandria said with a sigh.

"You prayed?" Emily said, surprised. "You hated being dragged to church on Mindoir."

"Faith gave me the strength to keep going," Alexandria said quietly, looking down towards the table, "prayer allowed me to hold strong in the face of suffering. I'm not a religious zealot, and I don't really follow the teachings of a single religion, though if I had to pick one I would go with Christianity, since that's the only religion I know in any depth thanks to our parents." She raised her head, meeting her sister's gaze through her mask. "But it kept me alive, and gave me strength. It gave me a second chance. God… gave me a second chance." She gave a small smile. "He brought you back after all."

Emily's face did not adopt a skeptical expression at that. The project that had brought her back _had_ been called Lazarus after all. She could also see the argument that God had given people the necessary skill, knowledge and sheer luck that had brought her back. She'd put her resurrection down to science… but it felt wrong to refute that to her sister. Her words had nothing but conviction behind them.

' _Speaking of second chances however…._ '

"If you believe that God gave you a second chance," Emily said quietly after a moment, "why did you use yours to become a pirate queen?"

Alexandria's face shifted rapidly. It went from calm, almost serene, to iron hard. It was the face of the Dragoness, the Terminus warlord, the pirate queen.

"I thought you were dead," she said flatly, her tone shifting towards anger. "I thought I was the last Shepard alive. I was still a slave during the Blitz, on the opposite side of the galaxy to where you were." She straightened, shoulders going back. "I swore revenge on the Batarians. I wanted blood, for myself, for you, for our brother, for our parents, for all those who were died or taken at Mindoir." She took a step around the table, towards Emily. "I didn't get free of the ship until a year after Blitz. I didn't become a pirate captain for another year. While you were basking in the glory of the Blitz, I was fighting off slavers, mercenaries and rapists, alone and outgunned. While you were going through ICT, I was dealing with the scum of the underworld at _barely_ _16_." She jabbed a finger into Emily's face. "At the age you were worrying about girlfriends, I was worrying about rapists and murderers." Her eyes were hard behind the emerald mask.

Emily's own eyes narrowed as well. "You think it was easy? That I just moved on like I nothing had happened?" She took a step towards her sister. "I was traumatised. I didn't say anything for a fortnight after the Alliance picked me up because I didn't want to start screaming. I was jumped at shadows for _months_ after, I wasn't allowed to go anywhere by myself because they thought me a suicide risk. My biotics were manifesting as well, I had to deal with not snapping someone's neck because they surprised me and my bitoics tossed them away." Emily's voice had been getting louder and louder, until she was shouting. "I saw dad shot in front of my eyes Alex! I only slept because they gave me drugs that _made_ me sleep or my body just gave out from exhaustion!" The two sisters were nose to nose now, and Emily's biotics were flaring slightly, reacting to her emotions.

"You had it easier than me, _Emes_ ,"Alexandria hissed. "You had support, you had people to help you, people who _gave a damn_ about you! I was just useful!" She gave her sister a shove backwards, pushing her against the railing around the conference room. "You had the Alliance, and then you had glory after Elysium! I had nothing! No friends, no allies, and the constant threat of violence over my head!" She jabbed her finger in Emily's face. "You had people who _pitied_ you." Emily was about to retort when Alexandria's next words stole the breath from her lungs.

"You probably got passed basic on pity _alone_."

Alexandria realised that she had gone too far when her sister's expression shifted from angry to shocked, to hurt, then to furious. She wasn't able to take back her words before Emily's biotics roared. She was picked up and tossed into the wall behind her. She scrambled to her feet, acutely aware that it was probably only the eezo sensors automatically triggering her shields on her armour that meant her back hadn't been broken. She'd had them installed after being ambushed by an Asari-heavy Eclipse platoon following a raid on one of their outposts.

Emily was utterly furious. Her sanity had been questioned when she spoke out about the Reapers, her leadership had been questioned following Virmire and her return to the Citadel, but no one had questioned her ability as a solider before. No one, even her most ardent critics like Udina, had before voiced any sort of doubt that she was an excellent combatant. That it was her own sister voicing the doubts made it even more painful and rage inducing.

"How dare you," she hissed, "how… Dare YOU!" She launched herself at her sister, armoured fist flying in a right hook aimed at waist level. Alexandria quickly dodged sideways, rolling under the blow. Before the fight could escalate further, the doors shot open, allowing Miranda, Garrus and Kythelea to storm in. Kythelea dove at Emily, using a combination of her heavy armour and enhanced strength to pin the cybernetically enhanced Spectre to the floor. Garrus and Miranda lunged at Alexandria, who quickly found herself pinned to the table by the larger turian, arms above her head, while Miranda disarmed her, snatching her pistol off her hip. She struggled for several moments, but Garrus was stronger, and she stopped, glaring up at him.

Then she smirked.

"Sorry, I'm not interested in Turians," she said, her smirked turning cheeky. Their position did look rather compromising, it had to be said, her hands pinned above her head by one long arm and Garrus standing between her spread legs. Garrus jerked at that, twitching backwards from the pirate queen. That was all she needed.

She tucked her legs close then hooked her heels into the collar of Garrus' armour. With an impressive display of flexibility, she pulled herself onto the marksman's shoulders, then brought her right hand down into the back of his neck, slamming into a pressure point. He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. As she fell she lashed out with her right leg, kicking Miranda's hand, who had raised her own pistol. The Predator went flying into the air, but Miranda didn't track it. Instead she feinted at Alexandria's face with her fist, then brought her knee up in a sharp blow aimed at the abdomen. The Dragoness jerked her hips sideways, avoiding the knee strike, letting her forearm take the blow from Miranda's fist. Her own fist snapped out in an uppercut aimed at the raven haired operative's chin. Miranda swayed backwards, avoiding the blow, but wasn't able to dodge the spinning roundhouse kick that followed it. The blow sent her flying sideways into the railing. She quickly righted herself, but froze as Alexandria snatched up her pistol and levelled it at her face.

"Are you quite done?" She asked. Even with her eyes hidden behind the mask, Miranda knew that one eyebrow was raised. She had been surprised by the other woman's skill and speed. The information on her said that she was fast with a pistol yes, but they had not said she was skilled in close quarters as well. She had underestimated her opponent.

"You done beating up my crew?" Emily said acidly from behind Alexandria. The answer came in the form of the raven haired woman holstering her pistol, then folding her arms. She looked over her shoulder, opening her mouth to make a smart comment. She froze, then spun around to look at Kythelea and Emily. They were standing next to each other, although Kythelea had a firm grip on the Commander's arm to stop her lunging at her sister again.

It made their near identical appearance all the more obvious, despite the glare on Emily's face.

Alexandria's jaw was currently making a spirited attempt of falling off her skull as she rapidly catalogued the similarities between the two red haired woman. It took a full minute to regain control of her vocal cords, and when she did, the question was the obvious one.

"Who the _fuck_ are you? And you why, in the name of all things holy, do you look so like my sister?"

Kythelea rolled her eyes, then glanced at Miranda. "Take Garrus to the med bay, make sure he's alright," she said to Miranda, who glowered at being given orders by Blackstone, while the youngest Shepard just look even more gobsmacked at the dimensional hopping woman's voice which, of course, sounded just like Emily's.

"Go on Miranda," Emily said, making a shooing motion with her hand. Miranda pursed her lips, but hauled Garrus upright, her genetically enhanced strength helping her carry the armoured Turian without too much difficulty, and dragged him out the conference room.

"Like last time EDI," Emily said, "lock the door and recording devices off."

"Yes Commander," the AI replied. "You do know this will irritate Operative Lawson?"

"I don't fully trust her not to run to Cerberus yet," Kythelea said, "maybe one day I'll tell her the whole truth, along with the rest of the crew, but not yet."

"How about you tell _me_ the whole truth," Alexandria said, her hand drumming a tattoo on her pistol, "before I start breaking things?"

Kythelea smirked at that. "I'll start with introductions. My name is Major Kythelea Blackstone, CO of Republic Special Forces Squad 326, Havoc Squad. As to the whole appearance thing, well." She drew a small holo projector from her belt, and dropped it on the floor, pressing a few buttons. Moments later, a woman appeared, in their full height, armoured, with a helmet tucked under her arm. Alexandria goggled for the second time in as many minutes as she saw her own face staring back at her, the only differences being a few cybernetics over the left eyebrow and along the line of the lower left jaw.

"I could say you look like my sister, Niveah Blackstone," Kythelea said, a smirk on her face at the pirate warlord's expression. "Now get comfy. This is one hell of a story."

* * *

 **AN:** I think I'm fairly justified in having both Shepards burst into tears. Its not every day that you discover that your little sister, thought dead, is actually alive. On the other side of things, Alexandria thought Emily dead as well, and became very hopeful upon seeing those pictures several chapters back. Now all the emotion is boiling over, and that's before you consider that Emily is currently pumped with adrenaline from combat. So yeah, tears justified.

Pretty sure the anger is justified as well. Pirate queen and Alliance marine? Don't get much more opposite than that. (Also, it rhymes, but thats a bonus :3)

Alexandria will get the information dump from Kythelea as well, for the same reasons that Emily got it in the first place.

Now in a straight fight, Miranda and Garrus would beat Alexandria. Why? They wouldn't underestimate her. I forget exactly where it says it, but its at the very least suggested several times in the ME games that Garrus, despite being a sniper, is _very_ good at CQB. He got taken out so fast because a) he didn't expect Alexandria to be as flexible as she was, b) the tactic used by Alexandria isn't one a Turian could use, so he was slow in countering, c) as stated in the story, Alexandria is known for her lethality with a pistol and as a naval commander, not for her skill in CQB. It was unexpected. Miranda would win due to a combination for biotics and her enhanced physiology, but again, she was taken by surprise and underestimated Alexandria. The youngest Shepard is like a glass cannon, fast, hits hard, but can't really take a hit in return.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time!


	13. Decision Time

**AN:** Hello again! Sorry its been a while, but Christmas and all that happened, so I've been busy. Probably didn't help that I didn't like the final scene and rewrote it entirely. If you guys want I'll put up a seperate story that contains any cut scenes

Anyway, this is all SWTOR. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Rakatan Space Station – Designation: Gateway**

Aethulwuld sat in the cockpit, staring out at the stars. It was late in the ships night cycle, only T7 was active, and that because he didn't need to sleep. The little droid was down in the engine room, analysing the computer data pulled from the Gateway station, and trying to see what could be dug up, whether it was regarding destinations or why the station was abandoned. So far, no one had got anywhere. The AI on the station seemed to be wired into every system, meaning that they could not take it offline, and it was actively resisting all attempts to break past its firewalls.

He idly swirled the drink in his hand, before taking a small sip from the glass. It was Corellian brandy. He was not truly Corellian, he had actually been born in the middle of a hyperspace jump, but he seemed to have inherited most of the (in)famous Corellian drinking constitution. He also wasn't generally a fan of harder alcohol like brandy and whiskey, but this had appealed to him, so he bought a bottle every now and again. This was in opposition to both of his sisters who, by dint of being a solider and bounty hunter respectively, drank heavier drinks more regularly. That, and being a jedi did not exactly offer the opportunity to drink much.

The ship was not parked in the stations landing bay. Nor was it parked in the hanger of one of the cruisers that had arrived. Instead, it floated a few kilometres away from the station, facing away from the hustle and bustle around the station. He had done so because he needed to think.

Kythelea was in another dimension. It had been over a week since that revelation. And within that dimension, there was a someone who had the exact same force signature as her. Who probably looked like her, had the same attitude, the same way of speaking. That meant, by logical extension, there was probably someone who shared his force signature, and someone else who shared Niveah's. No guarantee, but it was likely. Ordinarily he would meditate on this, let himself go within the force, but he just couldn't focus enough to meditate. So he turned to starlight, quiet, and brandy to calm himself enough.

It also helped there was only one other person, aside form T7 and C2, on board. Sergeant Rusk had taken over security procedures on the station after Havoc had been called away on a mission. Jorgan hadn't wanted to go, but was convinced that he had to do something other than mope, and that if he didn't, Dorne would sedate him and pilot them away anyway. Doc was busy doing research, into what Aethulwuld had no idea. Medicine and healing was something that just didn't click with him beyond first aid. Scourge was assisting Analia in looking over records, as well as discussing Sith History with her. Since ancient knowledge was right up her alley, Analia was more than happy to oblige. She was also, according to Ashara, attempting to seduce him, a fact that Aethulwuld had been amused by. The ritual that had given Scourge his immortality had also stripped away his emotion, or certainly most of them. While he had been slowly regaining them since the death of the Emperor, they were still very much muted.

Analia likely knew this. She probably wanted the challenge.

He pulled his thoughts back to the matter than had been troubling him. The debate was one he had been having with himself for a while, ever since Kythelea had been sent… where ever she had been sent.

Blood vs Love. Or more simply, whether to go through the machine himself.

Arguments in favour of blood, or following his sister: it was his sister. She was a Blackstone, and was likely getting into trouble left right and centre. He was curious about the whole dimensional doppelgänger thing that was going, and wanted to meet his sister's opposite, as well as his own and Niveah's.

Arguments in favour of love: he might well have to leave Kira. He did not know if Kira would be able to make the jump with him, and if he left, it would both sadden her and mean he would have to talk very fast to stop her using him as target practise for her telekinesis, something that she was very good with. It would also anger Niveah, who would likely follow him just to rip him a new one. Then there was Jorgan, who would want to come with him and find Kythelea. He would have to move very fast to avoid claw marks on his return, if he went.

He also might never come back.

Aethulwuld sighed, dragging his free hand over his face. Why did his life have to be difficult?

"Aeth?" A voice said behind him. He spun the seat around to see his wife standing at the entrance to the bridge. She was wearing a deep blue night gown that dropped all the way to her ankles, almost hiding the slippers on her feet. Her hair was loose over her shoulders, in opposition to the bun she pulled it into when she was awake. All these, when combined with the half light of the stars, gave her an almost innocent, fey look, all the lines that battle gives a person hidden.

"Couldn't sleep?" Kira asked, stepping towards him. Aethulwuld shook his head. Kira sighed, then stood just behind him as he turned the seat back around, placing her hands on her shoulders, rubbing her thumbs into the muscles around his spine shoulder blades through his green tunic that he wore at night. Aethulwuld gave a slight groan as the tense muscles eased slightly.

"So what woke you this time?" She asked quietly, brushing her fingers along his collarbone, "Galen? Orgus? Vitiate?" All three incidents had left their scars, hidden but there, upon the jedi battlemaster. Galen had been forcibly converted into a Power Guard, and Aethulwuld had refused to kill him, causing the once SIS Agent to curse him and go on a solo suicide mission to the central facility. They had arrived to see him fall to blaster fire, to hear his final words. Knowing that Galen could have been spared that pain had hurt both of them.

Seeing Master Orgus cut down by Angral in front of their very eyes had been painful, especially considering how they had rushed to Alderaan to save him. Aethulwuld had gone deadly quiet as they fought Nefraid, ignoring every word that the Sith said in taut. She could feel his anger over their master-padawan bond, and she could feel it being wielded in his every blow, despite the fact he was using the Soresu form, a defensive form.

Then Nefraid had made a mistake. One of his parries went slightly wide. And Aethulwuld exploited the slight mistake ruthlessly.

Four blows later, Nefraid was dead.

The first blow, blisteringly fast, had severed his lightsaber, the broken weapon clattering to the floor. The second was a circular blow that severed both his arms at the elbow. The third cut off his legs at the hip. The Sith Lord's screams were silenced when the knight's emerald green blade took his head clean off his shoulders.

Aethulwuld hadn't shown any emotion on his face when they discovered the tracker that Orgus had set. He didn't show any emotion as they gave their report and debrief. When he finally did show emotion, it was to break down in tears in his cabin. Kira had had to get T7 to override the door locks before she could go comfort him. She hadn't said anything, just sat next to him on the bed and held him close as he cried.

And as for Vitiate… well, the less said the better. Suffice to say that Aethulwuld had a sizeable amount of self loathing for what he did in those days.

"No," he said quietly, "its none of them this time. Just deep and difficult thoughts."

Kira was silent for a moment, hands still resting on his shoulders. "You're thinking about going after your sister," she said, her tone a soft statement of fact rather than an accusation or a question. Aethulwuld glanced up at her.

"How did you guess?" He asked, only half surprised.

"Because I know you, Aethulwuld Blackstone," Kira said, her lips curving into a half smile. "Family is important to you. I saw that when you heard of Niveah being named Most Wanted. Despite the fact that we were about to launch that failed assault on the Emperor, you were more worried about her than the impending fight." She gave him a knowing look. "And you are seriously considering going."

Aethulwuld gave a sigh. "You're right, I am thinking of going. I just…" he trailed off for a moment. "I just feel somewhat helpless here. I don't have the knowledge and resources that Analia has, I don't have Niveah's technical knowledge, and both have far greater network of people they can tap for help than me."

"You have been helpful," Kira said firmly, "you were the one to confirm she was alive at all. Honestly you are probably the one leading this if anything. Niveah might be yours and Kythelea's sister, but she's made enemies within the Republic. She wouldn't be able to hold all these disparate groups together. You being apprenticed to Vitiate gives you a little bit of credibility with the Sith as well, as did that duel with Clayton. Only Kythelea might be able to do it, but she isn't here of course."

Aethulwuld gave a small smile. "She always was good at getting people to work together," he said, then his smile broadened, "unless they really annoyed her, then she just hits them." Kira chuckled quietly. They watched the stars for several moments, until Aethulwuld turned his head and asked a question.

"Would you be angry with me if I did go?"

Kira came around the chair and sat herself in his lap, wrapping her arms around her husband's neck and shoulders. She stared into his eyes for a moment, head tilted slightly to one side.

"If you'd gone without talking to me first, then yes," she finally said. "I probably would have wanted to dump you in a rancor pit, once I'd stopped cursing your soul to the depths of Nar Shadda," she added dryly. Aethulwuld winced, but Kira pretended not to notice. "But I knew that you wouldn't. Dropping everything and running off without a word, even for your family, is not something you do. You would have spoken to me about, even if it was just to say that you were going."

Aethulwuld held Kira's gaze, and wondered, not for the first time, how he had been so lucky to meet her, to fall in love with her and find that love returned equally.

"You're doing it again," said Kira, making Aethulwuld blink.

"What?" He said, displaying his vast intelligence.

"You've got that really sappy look on your face again," Kira said, her expression turning impish. "It's quite cute actually. You get this little smile on your face and you look almost like you're high on something."

Aehtulwuld raised his eyebrows. "I am the Jedi Battlemaster," he said faux imperiously, "I do not do cute."

Kira simply grinned. "Your baby holos say otherwise," she said mischievously, and then laughed at Aethulwuld's expression, which was a mix between a pout and astonishment.

"How?" He sputtered out.

"That ladies night we did on Nar Shadda," Kira said with a grin. "Niveah had them."

Aehtulwuld groaned. "Of course she did," he muttered. He remembered that night. It was, in part, a celebration of Kythelea's promotion to captain, and in part just an excuse for the siblings to see each other again. Niveah and Kythelea had gone off with Kira, Elara and Mako after a while, while him, Jorgan and Gault had sat and talked. It had, perhaps inevitably, descended into an argument about who was the better shot between Jorgan and Gault, both of whom used snipers. Aethulwuld had attempted to end the argument by saying that it didn't matter who was the better shot, since he could just block it with his lightsaber. This, of course, required proving. The girls finally found them in an abandoned industrial complex, Aethulwuld bouncing around like a demented Jawa as he dodged and blocked sniper fire from the other two men.

He shifted in his seat, drawing Kira close as he watched the stars once more. She curled into him, resting her head on his chest. Together they sat in silence, simply enjoying each others silent company. Eventually, Kira got up, pulled her husband up off the chair, and ushered him into bed. Aethulwuld lay on his back, Kira curled up to his side, her head on his chest. He let the peacefulness infuse him.

* * *

The _Chaser_ slid into the space stations hanger the next standard day. Niveah stood in front of the ramp as it dropped, one hand on her hip, a smirk on her face.

"Soooo," she drawled as Kira and Aethulwuld descended from the ship, "will there be a crew addition in about nine months time?" She knew that the two were married.

"Seven and a half actually," Aethulwuld said, face perfectly straight. He managed to hold it for about three seconds, before Niveah's dumbfounded expression caused his face to spread into his most shit eating grin. Niveah scowled at him. "How would you even know in any case?" He continued, "I'd love to hear how you convinced Mako to hack the _Chaser_ for that purpose." He neatly leaned backwards as Niveah reached for him with a growl, chuckling. She settled for swearing at him in Huttese, which only caused his grin to make a spirited attempt to broaden further. Kira rolled her eyes.

"Ignore him Niveah," she said, "he's had to think very hard recently, you know how that makes him sarcastic." Aethulwuld shot a mock hurt expression at his wife while Niveah cackled, the tables turned.

"Is Scourge still in one piece?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Dunno," Niveah replied, "he's on the _Hand of Nox_ still, haven't heard from him." She gave her brother a look. "Shouldn't you be the one asking the question anyway?"

Aethulwuld gave a small shrug. "I thought he might have come back here during the night cycle since I'd parked the _Chaser_ away from the station." He closed his eyes, quickly locating Scourge's force signature. He was in one piece it seemed, no great emotional change.

Analia though...

He pulled away sharply, his face going scarlet. He rubbed the back of his neck, thoroughly embarrassed..

"Well, Scourge is fine," he said as the two women stared at time with amused expressions, "but Analia has been… busy." That sent both women off into giggles, which considering that the two were infamous bounty hunter and jedi knight, drew stares from around the hanger.

Aethulwuld rolled his eyes, adopting a long suffering expression. "No sympathy for the scandalised battlemaster," he groaned.

"Nope," was the simultaneous response from the women.

Aehtulwuld was saved from any further embarrassment by T7, who zoomed down the ramp tootling and whistling happily. He did not stop, just rolled around the trio and motored off towards Niveah's ship. The three exchanged glances and then hurried after him. T7 rolled up to the ship's external door and rammed against it. The door was opened a moment later by Mako, Blizz standing next to her, and the three began talking rapidly in a mixture of Basic, binary and Jawa, words blurring together into a tangle that had the two jedi and one bounty hunter looking at each other, completely lost. Oh they could understand the literal words, but they were no tech experts. Niveah was the best with technology out of the three of them, but her expertise was in arms, armour and ship tech. Mechanical tech, things that she could manipulate directly. What was being discussed was complex coding and possibly theoretical engineering, beyond her expertise.

She was about the step in when Blizz hopped on top of T7, and the tech-whizz trio shot off into the station, drawing the attention of the whole hanger. After all, it was no everyday that you saw a Jawa riding an astromech, especially not with said astromech whistling what sounded suspiciously like a bastardised version of an Imperial marching tune.

"We did just see Blizz ride off on T7, right?" Niveah asked after several moments. Kira rubbed her eyes, while Aethulwuld was blinking rapidly.

"Unless someone's spiked the caff again, yep," Kira said. She received two sharp and surprised looks. "You were on Coruscant at the time going through the Temple," she explained to Aethulwuld, who was looking particularly worried. "Some padawans decided it would be funny to put a mild hallucinogenic into the caff. The knights and masters were generally fine, but we caught on when a knight began claiming he saw pink fluffy flying Bantha in the mountains." She smirked. "It was quite funny actually, but Grandmaster Shan was not pleased."

"I can imagine," Aethulwuld said dryly. He shook his head. "She definitely takes more after Bastila than Revan," he added as they began to follow the path of the techy trio.

"The Jedi Grandmaster is a descendant of Revan?" Niveah asked, somewhat stunned.

"A direct one, yes," Aethulwuld said, growing curious. "Why do you ask?" He'd forgotten that it was something of an open secret within the Jedi Order, but not so well known outside of it.

Niveah's expression was an odd one, a mix of surprise, amusement and anger. Her force signature was radiating the same emotions. She pulled on a straight face, but it couldn't hide her roiling emotions.

"No reason," she said. Aethulwuld raised his eyebrows, his expression clearly saying that he did not believe her, but let it drop. His sister was the most secretive of the three, as well as the most paranoid, though it was well earned paranoia. If she did not want to reveal her secrets, he would not push.

Niveah meanwhile was thinking. Her mind was divided. She was both Mandalorian and a member of the Order of Revan, thanks an excursion on Dromund Kaas early in the Great Hunt. She did assignments for them on occasion, usually disguised as bounty hunts. A direct descendant of Revan lived. She wasn't sure whether she should considering killing the Jedi Grandmaster after what Revan had done to the Mandalorian's 300 years ago, or if she should inform the Order that one of his descendants lived. It would stir up a storm, that she was fairly sure of. Though she was equally sure that the upper echelons of the Order knew that Satele Shan and her relationship to Revan. Considering how well known they had both become in that time period, someone would have made the connection she was sure.

She concentrated on their surroundings once more when they reached the entrance to the 'Jump Chamber'. At least, that was the nickname it had been given by the scientists studying it. No-one else had come up with a better name. The room had been sealed in order to prevent anyone else getting 'jumped', with the only things allowed in being research droids and probes. It seemed that everything worked fine as long as a jump wasn't about to be initiated. It was a droid jury rigged into a console that allowed them to remotely access the machines coding.

"What's happened?" Aethulwuld demanded as they approached Mako, Blizz and T7, "and please explain in terms that we can understand," he added before they could start talking.

The trio opposite them shared a look. "We think we have a break through," Mako said after a brief pause. Three sets of eyes turned on her, becoming laser focused. "Until now, we've being doing the equivalent of trying to break down the front door, or creep inside. Essentially, treating it like a machine."

"But it is a machine," Kira said with a frown.

"One that can think for itself," Mako countered. She pulled out her data pad, tapping away at it. "But we forgot what AI stands for. Artificial Intelligence. After all, T7," she gestured at the astromech, who warbled, "is AI. Doesn't matter that he has a metal body, he's gone so long without a wipe that he is essentially a person. Would we call him 'him if he wasn't?" She challenged.

"You're right, but how does this help us with the Rakatan AI?" Aethulwuld asked.

Mako's face turned smug. "I treated it as a person, and asked if it could let us in." That pronouncement was met with stunned silence as they thought over the logic.

"So… you basically asked nicely?" Niveah said, the first to break her silence. Mako nodded, still looking pleased. Niveah clapped her friend on the shoulder, and turned to her brother and his wife. "This is why I have her on my team," she said with pride, "smarter than the rest of us combined, and can always find a new angle." Mako was positively beaming by this point.

Aethulwuld inclined his head towards Mako, a smile on his face. "Well done," he said, "can you send a message to Analia, tell her that we've got access to the computers? She'll want to datamine them."

"I already got a program running," Mako said, reaching for her holo terminal. Niveah's hand shot out and grabbed hers before she could press in the code for Analia. Mako gave her boss a confused look.

"Analia was recently screwing out the brains of her newest toy," Niveah said, her tone wry. "I don't think holo calling her would be wise. You might get a face full." Mako nodded, her face tinted slightly pink.

Kira looked between them, then clapped her hands, making them jump. "Right," she said, "so while we're waiting for Analia to climb out of bed, Aethulwuld and I will spar, while you two will start combing the data for any useful information once you've sent Analia a message."

"Since when were you in charge?" Niveah challenged. Kira gave her a flat look.

"Since you weren't," she replied coolly. She grabbed Aethulwuld's arm and pulled him away heading towards an unused hanger. Aethulwuld gave his wife a curious look.

"What was that about?" He asked once they were out of earshot of his sister and Mako.

"Her reaction to hearing about Grandmaster Shan and Revan," Kira said, "something about it rubbed me the wrong way. What I couldn't tell you." She met his gaze, a frown on her face. "Honestly I probably need the spar more than you do. Besides, it would be good to do something other than stand around and talk."

Aethwuld chuckled as they entered the spare hanger. The only things in it were spare supply crates for the research team. "You never did do sitting still well."

"Look who's talking," Kira shot back, striding to the opposite side of the hanger and removing her heavy outer robe, leaving her lighter weight tunic and trousers underneath. Aethulwuld stripped off his own outer robe, then called his lightsaber from his belt to his hand, holding it unlit in a firm grip.

"So, young padawan," he said with a smirk, "are you ready to lose?"

Kira's emerald gaze met his forest green across the hanger. "Oh is that what's going to happen?" She drew her own saberstaff and twirled it, activating it mid spin before holding horizontal. "And I'm a knight, as you well know," she added tartly. Aethulwuld activated his own blade with a thumb, the emerald blade jumping to life with the familiar _snap-hiss_ of every lightsaber. He brought it up in salute, before dropping into the opening stance for Soresu. Kira rolled her eyes, before settling into a Djem So stance, modified for saberstaff. The two circled each other for a moment, then Kira bounded forward, her saberstaff coming around in a spinning circle, two fast blows with both blade ends. Aethulwuld's calmly parried one and blocked the other. His own blade snapped forward, and Kira hopped backwards to avoid the blow, then twisted the blade into an uppercut followed by a strike towards his hip. Aethulwuld leant back, then jumped over her second strike, flipping up and over his wife. He was about to hit the floor when a wave of force tossed him towards the wall.

He tumbled once and came upright just as he hit the ground. Kira was on him in moments, blades flashing, but he planted his feet, blocking each and every blow with speed and grace. A quick double blow pushed Kira back, and he moved onto the offence, shifting into Markashi. Not something he used often, but good against saberstaff wielders. Quick precise blows, many of them thrusts and tight cuts over the wider blows of Djem So. Kira was driven back, her saberstaff less effective at blocking such thrusts. Finally she managed to spin her blade like a wheel, catching the two in a saberlock near the floor. Aethulwuld was strong enough to break the lock with sheer strength, and in real combat he would do just that, but this was a spar, so he allowed the lock to continue a moment.

Their eyes met once again, just for a moment. Identical smirks crossed their faces. Then they pulled the blades away, just for a moment, before clashing once more.

At a bank of terminals near the Jump Chamber, Niveah looked over at Mako. "Was it a normal 'ask nicely' or one of my 'ask nicely's?" She asked.

Mako grinned. "It was one of yours of course. I said I had found its core and would use it for spare parts if it didn't let us in, and that Blizz would turn it into a robot dancer for some weird fetish nightclub."

Niveah tossed back her head and laughed.

* * *

It took a quite a few days, and a lot of talking on the parts of Aethulwuld, Niveah, Kira and Torian, but they finally settled on a date to make the jump. Kira had agreed to let him go, in part because she knew he would keep dithering otherwise.

Torian had been harder for Niveah to deal with. He, quite understandably, was not happy with his wife going to another dimension from which they had no idea if they would be able to return. The argument had been pretty heated to say the least. Both Niveah and Torian had tossed lines of the Resol'nare, the Six Actions that every true Mandalorian followed, at each other, though the lines they picked were different. Niveah had pointed out the line regarding defending ones family, whereas Torian had tossed back at her the lines which called upon Mandalorians to contribute to their clan, and how could she do that in a different dimension? Perhaps significantly, he also quoted the line about teaching their children the Mandalorian ways. That caused Niveah to go quiet for some time. She knew that he had wanted to start a family, she did too, and they had talked about before, but she didn't feel she was ready for it. She didn't feel ready to settle down just yet.

Niveah won the argument with a single line. "Do I have to paint my armour grey?" The words were said quietly, and they were said with a hardened heart, but Torian looked like he had been punched in the gut by a Wookiee. A Mandalorian in grey armour was mourning a lost love. The message that the line implied was that Niveah would leave him if he wouldn't let him go. The time between that line and the day they had agreed to make the jump was tense. They didn't talk to each other, and avoided each other when possible.

It wasn't until the night before they made the jump that Torian found Niveah again.

"I was making you choose," he said from behind her. Niveah paused, the brush in hand mid stroke, then carried on painting the symbols onto her armour. "It wasn't fair of me to try and make you choose between two sides of your family," he continued.

"It wasn't," Niveah agreed, not taking her eyes of her work. There was several seconds of silence between them. Then she sighed, lowered her brush and turned towards him. "I shouldn't have said I would paint my armour grey," she admitted, "it wasn't fair."

"It wasn't," Torian agreed in the same tone that Niveah had used moments before. The two stood facing each other, eyes locked. Niveah's lips twitched into a slight smile.

"We're fools aren't we?" She said, eyes still locked on Torian's. Torian chuckled, then moved passed her to examine her armour. Niveah turned and stood beside him, leaning into him when he put an arm around her waist. Her armour, a heavily modified and upgraded suit of Mandalorian Seeker armour, was painted a dark green base with black highlights armour the visor and the edges of the armour. In blue was a short passage in Mandalorian, which Niveah had been working on before Torian have appeared, currently unfinished. It was on her right collar bone. Torian only needed to read the first half of what was currently painted on before he tilted back his head, amusement crossing his face.

"You love that saying don't you?" He said, looking over at his wife. Niveah grinned impishly. The phrase he was referring to was 'Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya', which translated to 'Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger'. One thing that was a sure fire way to push Niveah's buttons was to dismiss her because she was a woman and not a man. It did not happen often, but occasionally the odd idiot would do it, usually a cock sure pirate or smuggler. They regretted it. Every time.

"Well its not exactly a lie is it?" Niveah said. Torian made a non-commital sound, then changed the subject.

"You taking a rifle on this? Might be useful." Niveah considered it. Despite her preference for dual pistols, she had on occasion taken a rifle with her, usually where the combat took place over fairly long distance, such as on Tatooine. She was definitely better with her pistols, but having the option of the rifle for longer range was still handy. The extra stopping power didn't hurt either.

"Maybe," Niveah said thoughtfully, "Just don't know if it will fit alongside my jet pack."

"Fit the sling," Torian said, referring to a synthetic leather sling that she had found in a pirate base. She had kept it as a 'just in case'.

Niveah mused for a moment, then a metaphorical lightbulb lit up. "I could give it to Aethulwuld," she said. "A rifle is less likely to attract attention than a glowing sword, even if the rifle is shooting plasma." The only problem with that idea was that Aethulwuld didn't use blasters very often. He wasn't a poor shot, but he wasn't a good one either. He simply didn't have the training, and as a jedi, he didn't really need it.

"Does depend on how advanced they are," Torian noted, "sword might fit in better." Niveah gave a small huff but did not disagree with him. She pushed his arm away and picked the brush back up, continuing to work on the phrase. Torian gave a small smile, then moved over to her weapons locker.

"GR-9s right?" He said over his shoulder, hands hovering of the pistols in question.

"Yeah, check them over for me would you?" Niveah said, dipping her brush back into the paint. Torian set them on the weapons bench, a dutifully began to check them over.

"You've got him well trained haven't you?" Mako called from by the holo-terminal. Torian scowled as Niveah laughed, but was mollified a moment later when Niveah gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Later, much later, the two Mandalorians lay entwined in their bed, not a layer of clothing between their flesh, which was sweaty from exertion. Niveah lay on top of her husband, head on his chest, listening his heartbeat, listening as the air moved in an out of his lungs. One of Torian's hands gently stroked her hair, winding her dark hair around his fingers. The last hour had been slow, but with an edge of desperation and a desire to remember every moment.

She raised her head, meeting his deep blue eyes with her ice blue ones. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde," Niveah whispered to him. _We are one together, we are one apart, we share all, we shall raise warriors._ The traditional Mandalorian marriage vows, the same ones they had spoken before.

Torian smiled at that. "Olaror norac, ner kar'taylir darasuum," he whispered in return. _Come back, my love._

Niveah smiled, and whispered two more words.

"Ni Kelir."

 _I will._

* * *

 **AN:** There we go! Its a bit of a fluffy chapter I know, but I think it was needed.

Next up will probably be a mix of the Jump itself, seeing how Alexandria deals with what Kythelea told her, and the beginning of Horizon!

Rate, review, and I'll see ya next time!


	14. Leap of Faith

**AN** **:** I'm baaaacccckkk!

This one took a while, partly because I lost my muse, partly because I wanted to get it right, and partly because of distractions. Actually, mostly the first and third. Ah well, it happens. I also wanted to make this an extra long chapter to make up for taking so long, but I realised that the stuff I wrote to extend it would work better in a new chapter, and I'm not too happy with it anyway.

Also, I've written another thing as well. Its another crossover, one that will not be the priority until CHiTD is complete. It's a Harry Potter/Warframe crossover called 'The **Touch of the Void - The Muse Files'** , and the first of **Muse File** stories. This is essentially when I have to get a story idea down on paper because its been bugging me, and I've uploaded it for your enjoyment. I think I have a few more lying around, if you want to read them, then tell me in the reviews.

Anyway, enough yammering by me. Enjoy!

* * *

 _Gunfire roared as she ran, tears streaming down her face. The image of her dead father flashed before her eyes, his face set in anger and defiance even in death, the rifle on the floor next to him. She screamed and ducked as a gunshot zipped over her head, but kept running, even as the pounding feet behind her drew closer. She stumbled over some rubble, then cried out as she tripped and fell, landing hard amidst the broken concrete. She rolled over, her panicked gaze meeting the helmeted gaze of the Batarian standing over her. The yellow eye holes burned with an unholy glee as he reached towards her…_

Emily Shepard sat bolt upright in bed, biotics flaring, hands raised, eyes darting around the room wildly.

She was on the _Normandy._ Not Mindoir. There were no Batarians.

She rubbed her eyes. She hadn't dreamed of the Mindoir raid in some time. Even after she had been cleared by a psychologist before basic, she still had the occasional dream. After all the death and destruction, it wasn't like it would go away and never come back. That only happened in stories. Not something like that. Not that level of psychological trauma. While she glad she had her sister back, she could have done without the resurgence of the nightmares.

Rolling out of bed, Shepard changed into her PT kit. She couldn't lie in bed, not after something like that. She needed to get herself distracted and even more tired, then come back up and get more sleep. Some PT in the cargo bay would wear her out. It was only when she was at the engineering level that her mind caught up with her thoughts. The cargo bay was where Kythelea was sleeping. A flash of guilt came through her, but it was too late to tell the lift to turn around, the doors were sliding open in front of her. Her eyebrows rose when she saw Kythelea sitting cross legged in the middle of the cargo bay. Her back was to the lift. She could slip away without alerting her.

"That thing isn't exactly quiet you know," Kythelea said without warning. Shepard twitched at that, then sighed and stepped forward, exiting the lift. She leant against a crate, observing her dimensional doppelgänger, who hadn't moved expect to raise her head slightly.

"Couldn't sleep?" Shepard asked. Kythelea gave an amused huff.

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Shepard's mouth shifted to a half smile.

"I'm the commander, its my job to make sure that everyone is on good form," she countered dryly.

"And who keeps an eye on you Emily?" Kythelea asked, rolling her neck.

"Miranda, officially," Shepard replied. Kythelea turned her head, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Do you trust her to do that?" She said. Shepard frowned at that. Not at the question, that was reasonable enough. But there was something Kythelea's tone that rubbed her the wrong way.

"What do you have against Miranda?" She asked. "I'm not her greatest fan, but there's something between you two that's a bit more than just mutual dislike."

Kythelea snorted. "Its her attitude. To me she has this subtle air of 'I am superior to you'. It's something I ran into a lot back home, usually on the opposite side of the wall. And some of it was less than subtle," she added dryly, then shook her head. "Or maybe its just I don't like ice queens."

"Well technically she is superior to us, biologically speaking," Shepard said. At Kythelea's raised eyebrows she elaborated. "Her father genetically engineered her from birth to be the peak of human capability. She doesn't have super strength or anything like that, but she is stronger than most men, very smart, has better senses, heals faster and will likely live longer than us by half a life time." Shepard met Kythelea's mildly disbelieving gaze. "Apparently even her looks were engineered."

"Huh." Kythelea gripped her ankles and leaned back, a contemplative look on her face. The tattoo on her face stretched as her eyebrows knitted together, and she was silent for several seconds. Then she nodded once.

"Her father is a pervert," she declared in a solemn voice, with an air of gravitas and authority that only came from honest declarations of fact.

Shepard couldn't help herself. The stress and adrenaline from the nightmare burst out of her in peals of laughter. Slightly hysterical laughter, but laughter none the less. Kythelea joined her a moment later, her own chuckles ringing through the cargo bay. It took a minute for both women to get their laughter under control, but both felt like a weight had been taken off their shoulders.

"I needed that," Shepard said, slightly breathless from laughing. She stifled down another burst of giggles.

"That makes two of us," Kythelea said with a sigh. She got up, a melancholy look on her face. Shepard picked up on it a moment later.

"What's wrong?" She asked in a soft voice.

Kythelea let out a breath, turning away from Shepard. "I hate you right now," she said quietly, causing Shepard's eyebrows to shoot up. "You might have thought your sister dead for years, but you know now that she isn't. You can talk to her, see her, joke and laugh with her. One day at least. Me? My family might be almost entirely alive, but I'm separated from them by a barrier that I have not the slightest clue how to breech." Kythelea closed her eyes, drawing in a breath, then letting it out. "The man I love is behind that barrier too. We were both so nervous about voicing our feelings that we left it all too late. At least you know your Asari girlfriend is alive. You could explain things, rebuild, start over. I can't."

Shepard was surprised. Kythelea had seemed so resilient, brash mixed with calmness, her heart on her sleeve. But it had been a mask all along. She had hidden her pain, her loneliness, behind a mask of smirks and sarcasm. Much like she had done herself.

"That's the loneliness talking," Shepard replied quietly. Kythelea grimaced, or at least Shepard thought she did. It was hard to read someone's expression when their back is turned to you.

"Doesn't make it less true," she said sourly. Shepard rolled her eyes.

"You really think that your brother and sister aren't moving heaven and earth to find a way to get you back?" She said, her tone blunt. "From what you told me, they're either doing that or working on finding a way to come here and join you."

Kythelea sighed. "That's what I'm worried about." She still hadn't turned around. "Yes I'm their sister, but they have other family back home. Both of them are married. I don't want them to choose me over their other halves, especially as there is no definite way back home." She glanced back at Shepard, an expression on her face that was a mix of fond and exasperated. "Which, of course, means they'll be coming through if they can."

* * *

 **Rakatan Space Station – Designation: Gateway**

Aethulwuld looked down at the weapon that had been thrust in his arms, then back up at Niveah, and raised an eyebrow. "What is this?" He asked, somewhat confused. The object in question was a red and off-white, short barrelled blaster rifle, with a slightly curved upper receiver and a large scope mounted on top.

"X-12 Riot Carbine," Niveah replied in an easy tone. "You're taking it with you." They were in Aethulwuld's cabin on the _Chaser_.

Aethulwuld gave his sister a frank look. "I'm a Jedi, I don't need a blaster rifle," he said, a touch of pride entering his voice.

"99% of the time you'd be right," Niveah replied, "but we have no idea what we are going to face on the other side. We don't know if these weapons will even work after the jump, which is why I have my vibro-knives as well as my pistols. Likewise, we don't know if you can use the Force on the other side. For all you know, whoever inhabits the dimension Thea is in has a serious aversion to anything that looks like magic. If they see you using the Force, you might be on the receiving end of a witch hunt." She frowned. "Hell, you might not even be able to _use_ the Force for some reason. Considered that?"

Aethulwuld found himself somewhere between amused and annoyed. "Paranoid much?" He said, slinging the rifle over his shoulder.

Niveah just smiled bitterly. "Republic Most Wanted at one time, remember?" She gave a careless wave as he opened his mouth. "Save it Aeth, it wasn't your fault. You aren't responsible for the actions of the whole Jedi Order, unless you became the Order's Grand Master when I wasn't looking."

"I still could have tried to do something," Aethulwuld protested, though.

"No, you couldn't have, and you know why," Niveah said, looking her brother straight in the eye. She did have to crane her neck back a fair way to do so, considering their height difference, and the fact that she had taken a seat on his bed, but that did nothing to take away the understanding and comfort radiating from her blue eyes. Aethulwuld said nothing, just nodded.

Kira stepped in the door, and Niveah left. They all had goodbyes to say. Husband and wife gazed into each other's eyes for a moment, then Aethulwuld took three long stride forward and pulled Kira into his arms, holding her close. She in turn wrapped her arms around his neck, head buried into his neck. They stood like that for several long moments, just holding each other, taking in the warm and comfort of the other person. They said no words, just let their feelings show through in the Force, feelings of love, of worry, of comfort. Aethulwuld ran a hand though Kira's hair, letting the soft strands slide of fiery hair between his fingers. Kira gave a slight sigh in response, and buried her head deeper into the crook of his neck.

Finally, reluctantly, Kira pulled back, though only far enough to look her husband in the eye. He could see the tears there, un-shed.

"You will come back." The words were a command, not a question. Aethulwuld nodded in response, then leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Kira made a noise of protest in the back of her throat as he pulled away. He moved to pick up his robe, but she stilled him with a touch of a hand, then crossed the room to where it hung on a stand next to the door. He let her slip it around his shoulders, the heavy fabric a comfortable weight around his shoulders. Taking a step back, she looked him up and down, taking as if trying to fix every detail in her mind.

Beneath the robe, Aethulwuld wore his battle armour. It was made up of tough yet lightweight armour plates, painted off-white, that left the joints exposed, a necessity for a Jedi, especially a swordsman, as mobility was key, though the boots and forearm plates extended upwards to provide some protection. While it looked fairly baseline and off the shelf, it was in fact heavily upgraded with internal modifications, and it could also be sealed against environmental hazards with addition of a helmet and, to a limited degree, the vacuum of space, though it was not a rated for extended periods of EVA. Said helmet was a simple piece of equipment, since he did not normally wear one, and thus he did not see the point in getting an expensive one. The belt at his waist had a number of pouches strapped to it, containing assorted pieces of small equipment, such as a rebreather, a torch, and Aethulwuld's communicator. His lightsaber also dangled from it, attached to a loop.

In addition, the gauntlets and bracers were made of Beskar, purchased at great cost, effort and patience on Aethulwuld's part. Negotiations with the Mandalorian armourer who made the gauntlets and bracers had been trying to say the least. He had only been able to meet with the man by saying that his sister was the most recent Champion of the Great Hunt, and was adopted into the clan of the Mandalore. It had taken a week for the armourer to agree to make the armour, and that had only been after Aethulwuld had lost his temper and stuck the older man, sending him flying backwards. Apparently that had been what the armourer had been after all along. He got to his feet, booming with laughter.

"We're a passionate people," he told Aethulwuld later, "so on the rare occasion a Jedi comes and asks me to make something, I need to see that they have passion too. I won't make something for someone who lacks fire in their soul." The armourer smirked. "Especially a Jedi whose sister is a Great Hunt Champion." A fortnight later, Aethulwuld had returned to the armourer to pick up the gauntlets and bracers. He had worn them ever since. They had been very useful in tricking Sith, who would strike at his upraised arm, thinking they would carve right though, and their lightsaber would just bounce off. Often they were so surprised that Aethulwuld would be able to kill them there and then, though more experienced opponents could usually recover in time. They had saved his life more than once.

Kira finished her examination of him with a small smile, then turned and picked up the pack by the door. It was a survival kit, containing everything that Aethulwuld might need and could reasonable carry, such as a tent, rations and spare clothes, as well as a few other useful bits and pieces. Aethulwuld accepted the pack with a smile, slung it over his shoulders, rolling them to help it settle. The rifle was slung over his right shoulder, somewhat awkwardly thanks to the pack.

Together they left the ship, not saying any more, just walking together. The rest of his team fell in beside them, also not saying anything. Niveah's teammates were leaving her ship at the same time, and the two groups intermingled. Soldiers and scientists on both sides moved out of their path. The four at the forefront of the group, two jedi and two Mandalorians, would be imitating enough. When backed up by their full entourages, the affect was amplified tenfold.

They were met at the Jump Chamber by Darth Nox and a posse of scientists and techs. No words were said, none needed to be said. They all knew what that plan was.

In order to prevent anyone else getting pulled along for the ride, only Niveah and Aethulwuld would enter the chamber proper. Everyone else would monitor the goings on in the chamber from a series of terminal banks outside the room. They would also confirm that the power readings held steady and that nothing went wrong. No problems were anticipated, but this was Rakatan technology. No one quite knew what would happen.

The final goodbyes were short, but heartfelt. A warrior's handshake, an embrace, a fond pat and to those who mattered most, a gentle, chaste kiss. Well, Aethulwuld's and Kira's kiss was chaste and gentle, but Niveah and Torian look like they were trying consume the other from the lips downwards. Aethulwuld finally coughed meaningfully, causing the two to separate. He looked at his sister with raised eyebrows, who responded by sticking out her tongue. The jedi rolled his eyes in response and grinned, muttering something about 'shameless Mandalorians'. The grin vanished moments later when Niveah slipped on her helmet. Her own pack was strapped on, positioned so that it did not get in the way of her jet pack. There was a slight hiss as the helmet sealing in place. He slipped on his own helmet, then turned and faced the door.

"Open it," he ordered.

The door hissed open slowly, ponderously yawning open, like the mouth of a great beast. Beyond they could see the mechanisms that had sent their sister to a new dimension.

A journey they would soon make as well.

Brother and sister shared a glance, then stepped into the chamber. The long tendril with its eye like appendage lowered from the ceiling to stare at them. This time it said nothing, merely scanned them both after a moment.

"Close biological match to the previous entity transported," it stated, "you wish to make the same journey?"

"We do," Niveah said. Together they walked forward to stand in the small depression. The same spot that Kythelea had stood on when she was transported from this place. The pylons around them began to charge, ethereal green light running over them. The barriers snapped into place, green walls of energy.

No turning back.

Niveah glanced up at her brother. "Jorgan's gonna want our heads on spikes, you know that right?" She said on a closed comm circuit to get around the building humming and roaring of the machinery.

Aethulwuld nodded at that. Somewhere along the way, he had become the de-facto commander of this operation, partly because convention held that Jedi were in command of military operations if present, especially jedi masters, and partly because both Republic and Imperial listened to him with a degree of respect and fear respectively, and quite possibly both. It had been his decision not to tell Aric that they were going through themselves, and he had been the one to personally request that Garza keep Havoc squad busy and their focus away from _Gateway_ , citing emotional attachment as the reason.

"That's quite the double standard Battlemaster," Garza had said in response, arms folded.

"Guilty as charged General," Aethulwuld had said without flinching, "none the less, I would appreciate it if you did this for me. I fear that Aric will something supremely noble and just as idiotic and suicidal to get Major Blackstone back." The corners of his mouth twitched up. "I'm fairly certain that one day I'll call him my brother-in-law, but I can live with him being angry at me. He hasn't mastered the 'I'm very disappointed in you' look."

Garza could't hold back a small smile at that. "I suppose that's true. Colonel Blackstone does do it very well."

"She had two very good teachers," Aethulwuld said in agreement, "yourself and our mother." Then he frowned as the part of what the General had said caught up with his mind. "Wait, Colonel?"

Garza nodded. "Something I didn't tell your sister was that she was up for promotion, she just needed another successful mission to push her past the post. This mission was supposed to be it. Since she vanished, its become something of a posthumous promotion, but, if you manage to bring her back, then I'll be more than happy to make it official."

"When, General," Aethulwuld corrected, "when we bring her back."

Garza smiled slightly, if a touch indulgently. She'd seen too much and lived too long to have the same optimism.

The humming had become a deep base roar, building, growing.

For a moment, everything went silent. For a moment, the universe seemed to holds its breath.

Then their world turned green as they were hurled between dimensions.

* * *

 ** _Night Wyvern –_** **Bridge**

Alexandria sat in the command chair of her ship, reviewing finances and logistics. One thing that they never showed you in the films was the sheer amount of paper work that it took to successfully run a criminal empire like hers. While she did not do _all_ the work herself, that was the job of an accounting firm based on Illium, she did have to review and sign off anywhere from a dozen to a score of urgent reports and requests that were routed to her on a daily basis. She also had to review intelligence reports from her spy network which, though smaller than Aria's, the Shadow Broker's and the STG, was still good at its job. Her spymaster was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a Salarian, and was damn good at his job. She still wasn't certain if he had had STG training and decided to go for a job with better pay, which he definitely got working for Alex. The information that he and his network had provided had enabled her to snatch several lucrative shipments over the years.

Alexandria also had legitimate business assets as well, gained though purchase or by cutting deals. The businesses in question did not know that they were in the employ of the Dragoness of the Terminus, which always brought a grin to her face. She had invested in mining, specifically deep sea mining on ocean or largely water based planets, to the extent that she had a contract with the Hanar Primacy. It had been surprising easy, since the Primacy had woken up slightly in recent years and realised that they needed to push their expertise, their only problem being a lack of interested parties. Alex had picked up on that tidbit while she was hunting down a rival fleet four years ago, and had been able to, essentially, lay claim to several worlds that fitted the contract's terms by parking battle groups over the worlds in question, and later buying the rights to them. She had actually met the Hanar negotiator, and had nearly had a laughing fit as the jellyfish in question tried to explain to his superiors that the person who held the title deeds of the worlds they wished to begin operations was none other than the second most powerful warlord in the Terminus systems. She had only been able to get the contract by promising that the mining interest was a purely legitimate one, as well as turning over a larger chunk of profit and spoils than she would like to the Hanar.

She signed off a report, one from a captain requesting permission to have his ship undergo a fairly major retrofit, and moved onto the next.

She read two lines and promptly swore. Rani glanced at her from where she stood at her own terminal, the look on her face a mix of concern and questioning.

"Slave raid," Alex spat, "they're targeting a colony on the edge of the Terminus."

"Which one boss?" Tolena called from the pilots chair. Alex looked back at the report, scanning it for a name. She found it.

The entire bridge crew turned to their commander as Alex gave a cry of rage. She was gripping the sides of her command throne, eyes wide and almost literally alight with fury. Her face was twisted in a snarl of hate. She raised her eyes to meet those her pilot, and Tolena shrank back in her chair at the malevolence in them.

"Mindoir," Alex ground out, "they haven't learned, and are going back to Mindoir."

The entire bridge began to simmer with anger. No one on the ship liked slavery, and they all knew of the Dragoness' own hatred of the trade. Alex stood from the command throne.

"Triton, Morrigan and Calypso groups will meet us on the edge of the system," she stated, her voice that of a warlord, not a captain, "get boarding parties geared up, and order them to do the same. Last time Mindoir was raided, thousands were taken. This time… not one. Not one slave." There were growls of agreement from the crew. "I have some calls to make. Get it done." She marched from the bridge as it exploded into life.

She stepped into the comm room and pounded in the code for her Alliance contact. She didn't often call, and when she did, it was because she had something important to share, usually an imminent slave raid. If it was non-urgent, she sent a message. The fact that the Alliance was in contact with a known and infamous Terminus warlord was, of course, kept under wraps and would be strenuously denied if someone were to proclaim it.

She only had to wait a few seconds before her call was accepted, and a few seconds more before it was routed to her contact, Alliance Intelligence officer Major Mathews, a dour faced man with far too many lines on his face for his comparatively young age of 34. She barely remembered to slid her half mask over her face before his face appeared.

"Batarian Slaver raid," she said, overriding whatever greeting Mathews might have been about to say, "they're going back to Mindoir. Alert the governor that the raid is inbound, as are my own ships." She rapped in a code, sending the IFF tags of the ships that made up Triton, Morrigan and Calypso groups, as well as the IFF of the _Night Wyvern._ "The IFFs of my ships. Don't shoot them down."

"You seem angrier than usual at this raid Dragoness," Mathews said. The Dragoness had

"Mindoir was… is my home," Alex said. Mathews nodded as if this explained everything which, in a way, it did.

"I'll get the alert sent out, and I'll warn them that you will be there to assist."

"See to it, because I will show no mercy," Alex snarled. Mathews' mouth set into a thin line.

"Officially, I didn't hear that," he said. Slavers or not, they still had certain rights.

Alex nodded and cut the connection. In the Alliance Intelligence base on Arcturus, Mathews leant against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. This was going to be… interesting to explain to his superiors.

Alex punched in a second code. One she had received not so long ago. Her sister's. She freely admitted that it did send a small thrill through her, to know that she could contact her sister at last.

She had received the code just before leaving the _Normandy_ for her own ship, while her mind was still whirring about what she had learned in the super-friagte's conference room. That there was a family near identical to her own in both looks and, for lack of a better word, profession, was surprising enough, but the fact that they came from a different _dimension_? That just made it crazy. She would not have believed it if not for the sheer weigh of evidence shown to her, both in the videos that she had been shown and the undeniable evidence of Kythelea herself and her technology. It had taken her a full 5 minutes to get her head around, eyes flicking between her sister and Kythelea.

It had also resulted in something of an existential crisis. Faith had been something that had kept her strong, despite the strange looks it garnered on occasion. To be suddenly faced with a near identical version of yourself? Conflicting just about began to cover it, but only just. Was she a failed version of what God had intended for her? Was she meant to be someone else entirely? And where there more doppelgängers?

Was one of them still a slave?

It really was mind-bending. Ultimately she had set aside the issue to be dealt with at a later date.

She refocused on the comm when her sister appeared on the screen before her, in what appeared to be her cabin, judging by the bookshelves behind her. Her eyes whizzed over her sister's face, noting the tight features.

"Didn't expect you to call so soon," Emily said, a tight half smile on her face.

"I didn't expect to need your help so soon," Alex replied. Emily scowled and opened her mouth, but Alex beat her to the draw. "It's a slave raid Ems." That stopped her sister in her metaphorical tracks. "The bastards are targeting Mindoir again."

Emily swore, long and loud. "Of all the bloody inconvenient timing!" She snapped, then sighed. "I just got a call from my new best friend, the Illusive Man. He's the head of Cerberus. We've got a chance to catch the Collectors on the ground, stop them from taking another colony, but we have to go _now_ if we are to catch them."

Alex scowled at that. "So you can't come to Mindoir?" She asked, though she was more stating fact than asking a question.

"No, though God help me I want to, believe me on that," Emily said, anger and frustration burning in her eyes. Alex did.

"Alright," Alex said with a sigh, "go save the galaxy. Again," she added with a smirk. Emily grinned back, and, just for a moment, the years apart fell away. Just for a moment, the distance between the two seemed like nothing. Then it passed.

"Stay safe Alex," Emily said quietly, "I lost you once. I don't want to lose you again." There was a pleading note in her voice.

"As long as you do Ems," Alex said, just as quietly, "and I'll shoot some Batarian's for you."

Emily nodded, then glanced off screen. "I gotta go, we're coming up on the colony."

Alex nodded, then a thought crossed her mind. "What's the colony called?"

"Horizon."

* * *

 **AN** **:** Lot happened right?

Now some of you are probably wondering why the hell I had the Batarian's go back to Mindoir. This is part of giving Alexandria her own story arc, one that will cumulate in a loyalty mission for her. The specifics... well, wait and see. As for her having an Illium based accounting firm, that was inspired by the fact, much like Novaria, there seems to be very little in terms of business restriction. That and Alex pays her taxes for the firm, so the Illium government don't really have a legal reason for going after her, since none of her criminal actions link back to the firm. They simply manage money, and mostly the legitimate and above board stuff

We won't see where Aethulwuld and Niveah end up this chapter. The extra bit was going to be where Aethulwuld ended up, and no, it was not where Shepard's brother was. He'll appear later.

Next up will either be Aethulwuld, Niveah and where they end up, or Horizon. Things will kick up a gear during Horizon, and Kythelea will have a tough time fighting the Collectors. Why? The clue is in a previous chapter.

Rate, review, and I'll see you next time.


	15. Homecoming

**AN:** Well... this one kinda ran away with me. Not that I did not enjoy writing it, and I'm happy its complete but... yeah.

This chapter doesn't actually deal with Horizon. That will be most likely the next chapter, or possible even the chapter _after_ that. Depends on where my muse takes me. In chronological terms it happens about the same time as this chapter.

Anyway, I'm kinda a little high on excitement. Went to the WB Studios outside London where they made Harry Potter and _OMG_ that place is all kinds of awesome! Seriously, if you live in the UK and like Harry Potter, go there. Its well worth it. If you do, make sure you do the wand combat choreography, its really good fun!

I'm also going to preface this chapter with a warning. This is Niveah's combat introduction, so it will be suitably badass. If she seems OP, have no fear, this is a one off, like you see in SWTOR trailers where the class characters kick ridiculous amounts of ass with barely a scratch. Yes she's a protagonist, but she is not a god.

Anyway, enough

* * *

It was sheer willpower that stopped Aethulwuld from throwing up, and even then it was only just. A part of him knew that if he had not braced himself for the jump he probably would have lost the contents of his stomach. His body hurt all over, like he had been gently cooked in an oven. He gathered his legs beneath him and stood upright, eyes glancing around.

The area around him was covered in sand, rock and dirt. It was a wasteland, with jutting rock and ruined buildings. He was also in pain, an odd pain that covered his entire body. He reached for the Force, seeking to heal himself of it.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground, and he could taste blood in his mouth. His body hurt even more. The sand around him was scuffed as if he had been thrashing, and his robe was dusted. It only took him a few seconds to figure out that it was him reaching for the Force that caused this. He pulled off his helmet, spitting out the blood in his mouth. Thankfully he did not seemed to have bitten his tongue, but rather the inside of his cheek. He was however unnerved by the experience. The Force had been a constant ally for him, something that he could draw strength from and wield in the defence of both himself and others. That he suddenly could not access it was troubling.

It also meant his lightsaber was not as effective. Part of the reason that usually only a Force-sensitive could wield a lightsaber safely was the risk of cutting yourself mid-combat. A Force-sensitive was capable of predicting where the blade would be and manoeuvre themselves or the blade in such a way that they would not be harmed. He might be alright, muscle memory was a powerful thing after all, but he would have to be careful. There was also the fact that seating the crystal within the hilt was incredibly difficult in the first place, as if it was off by even a femtometer, putting energy through the crystal would cause it to exploded violently, almost inevitably killing whoever held it.

He drew the weapon from his belt, pointed it away from him, and pressed down on the activation stud. A sigh of relief escaped him when the emerald blade sprang into existence with the familiar, and some might say iconic, snap-hiss. He cautiously swung the blade through the air, its humming a comfort in this unknown place, before retracting the blade and examining the hilt. Apart from some dirt and sand it seemed undamaged, though he made a note to take a proper look at it later. With a rueful grin he replaced it on his belt and pulled the carbine off his pack. Niveah's paranoia had been proven right. He hoped that his marksmanship wasn't too atrocious. It had been a while since Kythelea had cornered him and insisted he learn how to shoot properly.

With a lack of anything better to do, he pick a direction at random and began to walk. Thankfully the sun was still fairly high in the sky, so he had plenty of time, though by its intensity, he wanted to get into the shade sooner rather than later. As he walked, he thought.

Niveah was obviously not with him. Whether she had been dumped elsewhere in this planet or somewhere else entirely he had no clue. It was also unlikely that he could use his holo terminal to call her since it was unlikely that it would be compatible with whatever comm system was in place here. If they even had a comm system. He could not reach out with the Force either to search for her either. Something about this planet prevented him from accessing the Force.

So he walked, and he thought, and he worried.

Around an hour later, he noticed some buildings that looked in better repair than previously. That made him cautious, as signs of repair work was clearly visible. He drew the rifle closer to his body, pulling the hood of his robe up over his head, and moved forward. No noise emanated from the building, apart from the whistling of the wind that had been slowly building. He slipped through an blown open door and looked around.

Whoever had built this place had built it to last. The walls were a good half meter thick at least, and would not be out of place in a military bunker. The door, though broken, was just as thick and probable capable of withstanding several shots from a tank. Durasteel girders protruded from a broken section of the ceiling.

He stopped his observation when he smelt a familiar smell. That of decomposing bodies. He crept forward, footfalls soft, to another broken down doorway. He grimaced at the sight that greeted him.

Spread around the room, in positions that suggested a last stand, were bodies of unknown beings. They were clearly sentient, as they wore manufactured armour and wielded guns, if somewhat rugged and ugly looking. Some of them had been savaged badly, whether by blade, tooth and claw or gunshot he was not sure. There were also two different styles of armour, though the differences were mostly restricted to colour. One group seemed to be in mostly dark greens and blacks, and it was them who had been defending the place. The other was armoured in red, and had an insignia on their armour in white paint, sprayed on by its uniformity. This group made up the minority of dead. Either dead had been removed or the wounded had received aid and had been able to leave. Any wounded among the defenders were long dead.

Aethulwuld continued into the room, carbine lowered now he was fairly sure that no-one was alive. He approached one of the bodies and knelt down next to, examining it more closely. It was large and lizard like, with a hard shell on its head, naturally grown from its appearance, on its head. The eyes were set wide on the head, and a large hump protruded over its head. Aethulwuld guessed it might store water or nutrients, based on what he remembered from biology lessons back at the temple. Just because he was a Jedi who spent most of his time fighting did not mean he did not receive a well rounded education. This one seemed to have died by being shot in the chest by ballistic projectiles. A lot, if the cracked breastplate was any indication. Whether this species had high pain tolerance or the weapon had a high rate of fire Aethulwuld would not be able to tell without finding a live one.

He shot to his feet, carbine raised, when he heard metal strike metal. He pointed the barrel in the direction of the noise. There was a scrambling noise, coming from around the corner of the room. Moving swiftly, Aethulwuld surged around the corner and pointed the carbine square at….

A youngling?

The small being, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, was clearly a young of the species lying dead around them, being the same body shape and dressed in a similar fashion, though in cloth rather than armour. Aethulwuld quickly lowered his weapon. He also dropped down to one knee, and pushed back his hood with his left hand. The eyes of the small being widened at his appearance.

"It's all right," Aethulwuld said, "I'm not going to hurt you." The youngling glared at him for a moment, despite the obvious fear, then said something in a language that he didn't recognise. Aethulwuld frowned. "I don't understand you," he said gently. The look he received was puzzled. "Can you understand me?" A nod. Aethulwuld sat back on his heels, thinking.

An engine rumble, one growing louder by the moment, caught his attention. He snapped his head towards it, then back towards the youngling. There was a mix of hope and fear on the little one's face. "Wait here," Aethulwuld said gently, but firmly. The youngling said something that sounded suspiciously along the lines of 'duh'. Some times you don't have to speak the same language as someone to know what they are saying. He ignored it, ducking back out through the door way and up a flight of stairs. He looked out a window, cursed, and ran back down to the youngling.

"They are in red armour, like those ones," he said, pointing to said red armoured sentients. The youngling immediately looked scared. So they wanted this youngling for some reason. Capture and blackmail was the most likely, Aethulwuld thought, however that depended on the youngling's position within his family, the sentients outside might have a kill order instead. Deny the family an heir and successor. Something that had happened on Alderaan a few times, what with the civil war, though usually it was a case of the heir being on the front lines already and then being deliberately targeted, rather than assassination behind the lines.

Aethulwuld glanced back towards the door, then at youngling. "I'm going to ask you to trust me," he said quietly. "I'll try and get us out of here, but you have to do what I say, alright?" The youngling nodded. Aethulwuld pulled his hood back over his head, then raised the carbine to his shoulder. They had to get out of the room before they were cornered, as it would make Aethulwuld's live much harder.

What followed was perhaps the most intense game of hide and seek that Aethulwuld had ever played. He tried to avoid combat, not trusting his marksmanship. It also made him realise just how much he relied on the Force. Without it, like he was now, he felt blind, deaf and hobbled. It was only long honed combat instincts, something more basic and primal than the Force, and a hefty dose of luck, and it had to be luck since he couldn't draw on the Force, that allowed him to dodge most of the red armoured sentients, as well as the sharp faced wequay lookalikes.

Of course, his luck was not to last. As they neared the exit, there was a shout from behind them. Aethulwuld whirled, carbine coming up, to see two of the wequay looking aliens charging towards him, with pistols raised.

Aethulwuld got the first shot off. He sighted down on the left hand one and squeezed the trigger. A burst of blue plasma bolts snapped through the air to bore into the alien's chest, which went down with a cry. Aethulwuld adjusted his aim as the other alien opened fire on him. He threw himself sideways, into an alcove, as the ballistic rounds slammed into the walls around him, not very accurately if he was honest. He poked his head back out, brought the carbine up, and fired again, killing the other one. He could hear shouts though, heading their way rapidly.

"Time to go," he muttered under his breath. He slung his rifle, pulling the sling tight. The youngling made a noise of protest when he scooped it up and ran. He cursed his inability to draw on the Force, for weighed down as he was by his pack and the youngling, he could have really used the increase in speed the Force could provide. He could hear the shouts getting closer and, as he rounded a corner, a hail of fire slammed into the wall behind him, barely missing him. He swore even as the youngling quivered against his chest, his boots pounding on the stone floor.

Aethulwuld raced around a corner, and felt as part of hope as he saw an exit. He sprinted towards it, pouring on the speed. Then his heart sank as he heard more engines outside, he skidded to a stop just inside the exit. He backed up rapidly, ducking into a side room. More shouts from outside, then, to his surprise, gunfire poured _into_ the building, and his pursers howled in rage and pain.

 _Enemy of my enemy is my friend?_ Aethulwuld considered this for several moments, then, as a rocket whooshed passed the door and crashed into the red armoured beings who had been chasing him, he decided to go with the other option. _Enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy, nothing more, nothing less_. Gut instinct told him to run. Thus he placed the youngling on the ground and faced the wall. "Stand back," he said, and drew his lightsaber. The youngling squeaked in surprise when the emerald green blade snapper into existence. Ordinarily, Aethulwuld would use the Force to blow the wall down, but that wasn't an option. The blade began to cut through the wall, the stone and metal used to construct it providing only a limited amount of resistance. The youngling gaped at him as he finished cutting the rough rectangle. It was close to being a rhombus, but he was having to work fast. Cut him some slack. Job finished, he deactivated the weapon, clipping it to his belt. "Alright, lets get out of here," he said scooping up the now unresisting and silent youngling. A few seconds later, he was gone, disappearing into the wastes of rock and sand.

* * *

Samuel Volkov sighed as he finished up with the AA batteries around the shelter. Despite the fact that he was getting on to 70 years old, he was still an excellent engineer, and former Alliance to boot. Thus when the sirens went off, calling everyone to the raid shelters, he had not gone to the shelters. Instead he had gone to nearest defence point, told them he was a former Alliance combat engineer, and said he was there to help. A hardsuit, rifle, pistol and toolbox later, and he was working on the AA batteries. They had been kept in good condition, for it had been resolved, planet wide, that Mindoir would not be defenceless in the face of another raid.

And another raid had come.

The intelligence had, apparently, come from an Alliance Intelligence Major who had agents embedded within pirate gangs throughout the Terminus systems, and had been confirmed by several quiet cyber offensives.

Samuel thought this was a bit suspicious himself. Something didn't quite fit, a gut feeling that said there was more to this. He resolved to figure it out later.

"How's it coming sergeant-major?" A voice called to him. That was his temporary rank. He had retired at sergeant, but he had been given the bump up, both in recognition of his experience, age, and to fill in ranks. It also meant he was placed in command of the engineers for this shelter. None of the engineers on planet was an officer.

"All done here lieutenant," he called, voice still strong despite his age. "Now we just have to wait and see if it will hold against up."

The lieutenant in question, a young woman by the name of Ellie Jameson, nodded, a half smile on her face. She was a recent graduate, but seemed capable. "Have a little faith," she said, "we've got good cover against any shuttles, and I'm reliably informed these batteries could shoot down a destroyer if push comes to shove. We'll be fine."

Volkov inwardly winced. The demon known to Humanity as Murphy would be all over that.

He was, of course and to his irritation, proven right.

As the slaver shuttles and gunships roared towards the ground, people waiting expectantly for the turrets to open up, to tear down the incoming craft like wheat before a scythe. They didn't.

"Sergeant-major!" Lt. Jameson called, "why aren't the turrets firing?" Her voice sounded steady and calm, but Volkov had been a soldier long enough to hear the quiet worry in it.

Volkov pulled up his omnitool. Volkov ran over the diagnostics.

Volkov cursed.

"They've hacked the damn things," he said, fingers flying over his omnitool. Inwardly he cursed. He should have seen things coming. After all, the range on the guns was impressive, capable of hitting targets at the edge of the atmosphere if necessary. But it was also assumed that any pirate raiding force would not have cyber offence capabilities, or at least, not a significant one.

"Can you regain control?" Jameson asked.

Volkov grimaced. "Don't know. I specialised in mechanical engineering, not cyber." He looked around at his team, who all shook their heads. Clearly none of them were cyber specialists.

Jameson gave a grimace of her own. "Alright, Volkov, you focus on trying to get the turrets back online. The rest of you, start setting up the heavy guns outside. Those at least can't be hacked."

The platoon got to work, hauling additional sandbags into place, going over the fixed guns, making sure there was nothing that was going to affect their performance.

As Volkov got to work, his mind went back to the last raid. He had survived it only because a grenade had knocked him unconscious from the blast, rather than killing him outright. The slavers, who at that time were cutting their losses running before the Alliance fleet arrived, had not stopped to check if he was dead or not. He had staggered back to the workshop when he was conscious once more, searching for Alexandria. He liked the girl, mostly her stubbornness and her willingness to kick him in the shin despite being not much more than waist height to him. He was quietly glad that she had not aimed higher, for though she had hurt herself more than she had hurt him, it was a kick with a fair bit of power behind it.

If he was honest, she was something of a niece to him. He hadn't married, partly because he had never felt the urge to, and by the time he got around to thinking about it, he considered himself to be a little too old. That and he had not really found someone that clicked with him. It was somewhat odd, considering that he did not get on that well with Edmund and Hannah Shepard, Alexandria's parents, that he had grown close to the girl. Maybe he was more lonely than he realised, looking back. He had often stayed behind to help her after the engineering club, considering himself something of a mentor for the girl. She'd been on track to be an excellent engineer, before the slavers had come.

He wasn't sure if she was dead or alive.

Though he did not know it, that question was about to be answered.

* * *

The Batarian slaver fleet was locked in orbit around Mindoir. They had taken out the communication satellites, destroyed the small Alliance defence force in orbit with the loss of only a pair of frigates and a corvette, and now their slave transporters were deploying their shuttles and gunships to the planet below.

In the fleet's flagship, Captain Calek Harnam leant against the command console with a grim smile on his face. It seemed that someone had warned Mindoir that they were coming. Thus he was going to experience heavier losses than last time. For it had been him who led the slave raid last time, a young captain gambling with a lot of risks, mainly the loss of his head if it failed. It had not, in fact it had been devastating for the Alliance, and they had come away rich. Yes, it had resulted in Torfan, but he had not been on the plant at that time, and thus he had lived to continue slaving. Though that had become a more difficult job thanks to that blasted woman, the Dragoness. She, he presumed, had been a slave once as well, for it was the only explanation that made sense considering she was also a pirate warlord.

He ran his eyes over the reports again. His forces were deployed on the ground, and faced stiff resistance. Thanks to the warning, the population had made it to the shelters. This time however, he could not simply pull back his forces. This raid had required him to call in a lot of favours, and had involved tense negotiations. It had to be successful, or he was a wanted man among the slave trade. Mindoir was considered to be a high risk target. However, he had paid a great deal of money to the Shadow Broker, in return to one of his agents slipping a virus into the defence system. The agent had clearly been successful, as the AA turrets were silent and inactive.

And then everything came crashing down around his ears.

"Sir! Incoming warships!" The sensor ensign called, "working on identifying them."

"Make it quick," Harnam barked back. The ensign worked away for a moment more, then uttered an oath. "What?" Harnam demanded.

The ensign turned towards Harnam. He was pale and shaking. "Lead ship identified sir." The ensign swallowed hard. "It's the _Night Wyvern_."

The bridge crew went silent at that. The Dragoness had a reputation among slavers, one that, unknown to them, was one she deliberately cultivated, one that left them more scared of her than Aria, if only slightly more.

She showed no mercy.

None.

Aria was scary, that was considered gospel truth across the Terminus. She was an Asari Matriach after all, and had a ruthlessness to match her biotics. But among slavers, the most feared was the Dragoness. Aria, after all, did not hate slavers simply because they were slavers.

Harnam swore. "All ships, break orbit and intercept them. The transports will have to fend for themselves for now."

* * *

Alexandria's lip was curled up in a snarl as the _Night Wyvern_ shot towards Mindoir, Morrigan group in tight formation around her. Part of her wanted to order Tolena to go faster, however that would mean she would leave the rest of the battle group behind. The Night Wyvern had, after all, been built with speed in mind, and could keep up with frigates comfortably, despite being a heavy cruiser. The 'heavy' bit referred to the armaments, which would normally be more at home on an older class of Dreadnought. One of the bonuses of having a larger than normal drive core, you had a more powerful main gun. Her barriers were also more powerful, though to gain the impressive speed, her armour was lighter. She hadn't been able to get her hands on Silaris armour, which would have fitted her needs just fine, since it was both light weight and _Night Wyvern_ also had torpedo launchers and thick banks of GUADIAN lasers, as well as turret mounted cannons on the ships flat sides. The turret guns allowed Alexandria to pound away at ships even while circling for another attack run with the main gun.

The battlegroups accompanying her were not so special. They were made up of a mix of turian and human vessels, since they were the most common outside of batarian vessels in the Terminus, and there was no way in hell Alexandria was having a batarian ship in her fleets. There was the occasional asari ship, but they tended to be less common in the Terminus.

"Approaching firing range mi'lady," Rani said. Alexandria's eyes narrowed to slits as she watched the range close.

"Send the signal… now," Alexandria ordered. Rani tapped in a quick command.

The batarian slavers had seen just the one battlegorup, and believed that that was all the Dragoness was bringing with her. While nervous, for the Dragoness was known to be very proficient in naval combat, they were somewhat confident due to the lack of ships against them. That confidence vanished moments when Triton and Calypso groups dropped out of FTL, in a position that had them caught in a deadly crossfire. They were now outnumbered.

They were unable to respond in time.

"All ships, fire!"

Blue fire rippled from the Dragoness' fleet as their main guns fired. The first volley smashed into the ships like the wrath of an angry god. Barriers buckled under the blows, some holding others failing. The second volley was less successful, for now the slaver fleet was moving, dodging shots, but they were not entirely successful in dodging. A frigate, its barriers downed in the first volley, was blown open from bow to stern as the _Night Wyvern_ 's main gun spoke again, the shot punching clean through to the drive core. The drive core detonated moments later, engulfing the vessel in blue-black fire. A cruiser was ripped open by a triple volley, huge sections of starship blown off. Another cruiser had its drive section blown off, leaving it with no way to escape.

The Dragoness' fleet did not have it all their own way. Knowing her reputation, the slavers fought tooth and nail. A destroyer in Calypso group was ripped apart by a torpedo, the gaping hole in her superstructure leaving her crippled and helpless for the volley that tore her apart. A frigate was riddled with shots from an opposing pair working in tandem, leaving her leaking atmosphere.

But for all their resistance, the slaver fleet was trapped in the deadly crossfire. They tried to flee, knowing that they could not fight off the Dragoness' fleet.

And then the hammer fell.

A detachment from the Alliance 1st Fleet dropped out of FTL on the rear of the slaver fleet. At its head was the SSV _Elbrus_ , one the Alliance's dreadnoughts. An older class of Alliance dreadnought it might have been, but it packed a serious punch. The Alliance force was as thirsty for blood as the pirate fleet, and between the two groups the slavers were getting cut apart.

On the bridge of the _Night Wyvern_ , Alexandria smiled a feral smile as the ships gun roared, blowing a hole in a slaver cruiser. Mathews had come through in spectacular style if he'd managed to get a dreadnought to Mindoir. Then again, she was fairly certain that the simple fact that batarian's were attacking Mindoir for a second time was sure to rouse the fury of the Alliance admiralty. Being attacked just once had partly resulted in Torfan. Twice? The batarian's were going to torn to shreds.

"Punch a hole to the surface," she ordered, "then order Morrigan group to deploy shuttles and gunships. We're going down there. I want plenty of snipers and lots of explosives."

Rani looked at her, a frown on her face. "Are you sure that is wise mi'lady? The Alliance may think we are launching a raid of our own."

"I'll send them a message, tell them what we are going to do," Alexandria said. She glanced over to the comms station. "Send a signal to the Alliance dreadnought. Tell them we will be launching boarding parties on disabled ships, and that one third will be launching shuttles to the surface to take out the slavers on the ground." She stood from her command chair and stalked out the bridge to the hanger. She was already in full armour, infamous pistol on one hip, a modified Locust on the other, and a modified Scimitar tucked into the small of her back.

She was going home. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

* * *

There are several things, no matter where you go, whether in fiction or reality, that the criminal underworlds have in common.

First off is that, for obvious reasons, the majority of its inhabitants are lawbreakers, and remain lawbreakers till they die. It would not be called the criminal underworld if this was not the case. Literal underworlds, such as the realms attributed to the likes of Hades and Hela, usually contain heroes, villains and everything in between, though that varies depending on the precise mythology.

Secondly, there is some form of trade in illegal narcotics. Heroin is one example of this form the real world, and the word 'spice' is often used to name some from of narcotic in fiction.

Thirdly, there is little that cannot be bought, bartered or traded in its murky depths, from weapons, one of the most common, to restricted substances that are legal only in licensed hands, or flat out illegal, to people, whether to be bought as slaves or contracted as killers.

Fourth, though not entirely consigned to the underworld's dark depths, is that its inhabitants have a truly impressive vocabulary of profanities, often in multiple languages. The best can string them together in a manner that could almost be considered poetic, and leave you wondering, whether you wish it or not, as to whether they are physically possible.

It was this last attribute that Niveah displayed as she was landed on all fours, describing in great detail exactly what she thought of the Rakatan scientists and engineers who had made that particular device. Throwing up was a risk only for a moment, walking the dark depths of the criminal underworld meant that you struggled to find something that made you sick. Dimensional jumps included it seemed. There were some nasty things to be found, should you go looking.

It was only when she staggered upright, shaking off the last of the nausea, that she took in her surroundings.

She was in an alley way in an suburban area, judging by the houses around her and the amount of greenery. The houses themselves were made of metal and stone, and seemed to, judging by a quick glance through a window, belong to decently well of people, though their wealth wasn't anything to shout about. She stopped admiring her surroundings when she heard the distant cradle of gunfire. Ballistics of some sort by the sound, there was a lack of the hum that was found in blaster weaponry. Either way, it was as a good a place to start as any. She began to jog that way, keeping an eye out for anyone shooting at her.

She quickly found the fight. Stepping back around the corner she had been about to round, she watched with keen interest.

Two groups of combatants faced off, both behind cover. One group was heavily entrenched in front of a building which, judging by what she could see of the doors, was a bunker of some sort. That group was fought with an edge that suggested professional soldiers, most likely the local garrison judging by their uniform and equipment. The other group was had a professional edge to it too, but it was that of mercenaries. It was a difference that she had been taught fairly early on on the Wasp.

One fought only for credits.

For the other, the credits usually held second place in importance. First was duty.

A few more moments of watching revealed that the defended group was in fact entirely human, of varying ages. One seemed to be very old indeed, though her visor magnification only went so far. He was not in charged though, judging by the way another soldier was pointing and gesticulating. A woman by the curve of her breastplate.

Currently the fight was a stalemate. Neither side seemed able to gain ground against the other, for while the attackers had numbers, the defenders had a number of heavy guns set up, preventing them from getting close. The smoking wrecks of several aircraft suggested that those guns had been put to good affect, though similarly, the walls and ground around the defenders was pock marked with cannon shot, craters, and bodies. A price had been paid to bring down those gunships.

Time to break the stalemate, Niveah thought to herself.

She took a few paces back from the corner, then took four paces forward and triggered her jet pack, roaring into the sky. Mingled in with the roar of the jets was her own battle cry.

" _OYA!_ "

A trio of batarians heard her cry, and turned to see where it had come from.

The sun was rising on this part of Mindoir, in the east much like it did on earth, for the attack had come shortly after dawn. When the batarians turned, they saw an angel of wrath, arms raised, bearing down on them, silhouetted by the sun to be little more than a shadow.

They did not see the rocket that ended their lives. It crashed into the ground at their feet, blowing them off said feet, the blast killing them before they truly knew they were dead.

A moment later, Niveah landed among the dead. The rest of the batarians saw her then, and some turned towards her, intending to gun her down.

She shot first.

Her pistols snapped up and spat death, red and blue light signalling death. She did not stay still though, she moved, flowing between cover with long hardened instinct and experience, blasters never silent. She leapfrogged forward, jetting on top of the one of the downed gunships, pausing for barely a moment to put a pair of bolts into a batarian, before screaming into the sky once more.

She tore through them like a kyrat dragon through bantha.

Her arm mounted flames burst into life, burning a group of batarians hidding behind cover. They screamed as the flames engulfed them, for they were the meat shields of this batarian party, and so had no barriers to protect them from the fiery serpent reaching for them, devouring them.

Niveah heard cries of victory from the barricade behind her, the human forces unleashing a fusillade at the now retreating batarians. They fell back before the renewed fury of the Alliance, before the sheer shock and awe factor that was Niveah. This was a warrior they had never faced before, one who carved through their ranks like a thresher maw. An armoured angel of death, who carried weapons that ignored their shields.

Before such fury, they fell back, hoping to reach their shuttles and escape the ships they believed were waiting in orbit.

Then, once more, the hammer fell.

As they approached the landing sites, Niveah and Alliance forces hot in pursuit, the shuttles exploded, destroyed by an unseen hand. For the buildings surrounds the landing site, which was a round area of grass, hidden forces opened fire, sniper rifles picking off mercenaries with precise shots. From behind low walls and hedges, assault rifles and SMGs opened up, the torrent of shot pouring into the batarian ranks.

And above it all, there was a constant chant, one broadcasted over the hijacked PA system.

" **NOT ONE SLAVE! NOT ONE TAKEN!** "

The chant was a war cry, a promise. For they would not let one slave be taken this day. It was one that the Alliance took up, for it was a chant that roused the blood, hardened the heart, steadied the arm. It echoed off the buildings.

Then, the chant paused. The PA crackled for a moment, then-

" **CEASE FIRE!** " The voice was a command, with an authority that could not be disobeyed. Even the Alliance forces, though they did not recognised the voice, could not deny the sheer authority in it, and quickly stopped firing.

Niveah stopped firing too, but for a different reason. She recognised that voice. She knew it all too well.

There were just five batarians left at this point. All but one were wounded, and all were exhausted. They looked around, terrified, but with a somewhat resigned air. They knew their continued existence was at the leisure of the strange commander.

Then a figure walked from between the burning shuttles, and they knew their fate was sealed.

Clad in her war armour, she prowled slowly out from the burning wrecks, like a demon arising from the fires of hell or, perhaps more appropriately, like a dragon stalking through the flames of its own maw. Her crimson cloak danced with flames, though whether they were real or merely a clever illusion was hard to tell.

"15 years ago," she said, voice echoing over the PA, "you came here last. You burned, you pillaged, and you enslaved." The anger was clear in her voice. No, not anger, for that was too soft a word. Rage. Incandescent rage would be a more accurate term. "Not this time. You will not enslave anyone this time." She slowly drew her pistol, and the batarians shrank back from her. "You will never enslave from my home again."

Then the pistol snapped up, and the first batarian died as the round took him in the skull. "For my father." The words were a snarl. The next batarian tried to raise his own weapon, but he was too slow, and the bullet tore out his heart. "For my brother." The remaining batarians weapons were raised now, and they prepared to fire, but the Dragoness' omni-tool flared, and their weapons sparked as they were sabotaged. "For my sister," the Dragoness spat, the next shot taking a batarian in the throat. The remains two charged at her, hoping to club her down. The first, the unwounded one, didn't get close. A round caught him in the upper left eye, and bore through his brain. "For my mother."

The last batarian had reached her by this point, and brutal spiked fists of omni-gel had formed over his hands. He lunged at her with a cry, and while he was wounded, it was not a bad wound, thus he still had most of his strength. But he was tired from battle, and thus was slowed.

Even fresh, he would not have been able to strike. The Dragoness dodged to the side, then drew her dirk, though it was closer to a short sword in length, and slashed the back of the batarian's knee. He howled as his leg gave way, unable to support his weight without the vital tendons and muscle there. He froze when he felt the barrel of the pistol pressed to his head.

"For Mindoir, my home," the Dragoness said, her voice full of calm fury. The pistol spoke one last time, and the batarian fell to the ground, dead.

For a several moments, there was silence. The Alliance watched the pirates, the pirates watched the Alliance, and Niveah watched both. The Dragoness took in a deep breath, holstered her pistol, then tilted back her head. She thrust her arms skyward and howled in triumph. It was a howl that was echoed on the PA, and moments later the pirates burst out cheering, the Alliance following a half second behind.

Well, almost all the Alliance.

One man stood there, a look that mixed shock, amazement, tenderness and disappointment into one.

For Samuel Volkov, this was like seeing a ghost. One word, a whispered name, dropped from his lips.

" _Alexandria_?"

* * *

 **AN:** Well there we go. Alexandria is on her path to revenge, because really, you think Harnam died in orbit? That would be too easy. She's also running the greatest risk of being exposed by someone who knows her, someone who has put together the pieces, and who knew her before the first slave raid.

The Alliance sending a dreadnought seemed justified since Mindoir has, obviously, been raided before. The Alliance is pissed, and they are going to want to crush the batarian's utterly.

And yes, Alexandria has a flare for the dramatic. She's a pirate warlord, and stays one by upholding her reputation. Really, a little dramatics are needed. Besides, it was fun to write.

Now as for Aethulwuld, I'll sure many of you will guess where he has ended up. As for how he can't use the Force, that was deliberate on my part. A Jedi Battlemaster such as him would be OP enough normally, what with the lightsaber and force powers, so this was my way of bringing him closer to the level. There is a reason for it as well. He'll get his powers back in time, but it will take a while.

Anyway, rate, review, and I'll see you next time.


	16. Cleanups and Collectors

**AN:** Anyone home?

... yeah. This is late. Like... really really late...

In part this is because I spent 6 weeks in Madagascar over the summer, but I was also suffering from writer's block and dealing with exams and my first year of uni. So... yeah. I also rewrote the Mindoir section from the ground up at one point, which _really_ didn't help matters.

But its here at last! If you're still here, thank you for your patience.

Now... onward with the story!

* * *

 _Several hours earlier…_

The comm beeped. He pressed a button, opening the channel.

"Yes?"

"Horizon has gone dark sir, as predicted." The person speaking was female.

"Good." He took a drag from the cigarette, then blew the smoke out. "Send Shepard a message. Tell her I need to speak with her urgently."

"Yes sir." The line closed.

In another part of the base, the woman typed up the message quickly, sending it off once it was finished.

Then she sent another.

 **CHiTD**

 _Mindoir_

The cheers finally died down, and clean up began. The Dragoness reiterated orders she'd given out earlier against looting. The one person who tried, a salarian, was dumped on his head and threatened with castration by his captain.

Throughout it all, Volkov kept his eye on the Pirate Warlord. She was coordinating with Lt. Jameson, directing the clean-up of the immediate area, as well as the road they had driven the slavers back down and around the bunker. She still wore her domed helmet with the snarling dragon carved into the faceplate, crimson cloak thrown over her shoulders. He judged her, from his memories, to be a similar age to Jameson, but they were two quite different people thanks to their experiences. Idly, he wondered how much she looked like her mother under the helmet. Hannah Shepard had been raven haired and blue eyed, and from what he remembered Alexandria had taken after her, while her older brother and sister had taken after their father, red hair and green eyes. Somewhat surprising, considering that the genes for red hair and green eyes were recessive, to have two children with that colouration.

He shook his head as he finished dismantling one of the heavy guns outside the bunker, before passing it over to team to pack away. The slaver fleet had been destroyed or had fled, and a hard reset had given them control of the surface to orbital batteries. In any case, with two fleets in orbit, the guns outside the bunker were judged unneeded. The bunker had also been emptied, with the citizens of Mindoir coming out to help with the clean up and treating of wounds. The militia soldiers had received lavish praise, as had the pirates, but there was a touch of nervousness in the air when it happened. It took Volkov a moment to realise that it went both ways. Just as the people of Mindoir were nervous when praising the Dragoness' forces, so too were the pirates nervous about accepting it.

"You'd have thought the pirates would be lapping it up," one engineer said.

"How often of you think that they get praise from the average person?" Another said. "They probably don't quite know what to do. Any other day we'd be cursing them for disrupting shipping and raiding."

"I think its more than that," Volkov added. "They keep glancing at the Dragoness," he continued when they looked at him. "I think they have orders to be on their best behaviour. This is her home after all." Several odd looks were directed at the old veteran.

"You sound very certain of that."

"You heard her didn't you? You don't get that kind of rage from stopping any old slave raid," Volkov said smoothly, hoping to cover for his near slip. They seemed to buy it, and turned back to the guns.

Volkov took a moment to look at the strange warrior who had assisted them. He called her a warrior for the way she had moved across the battlefield, flowing around obstacles with ease and unleashing death with her two pistols in a fashion too deadly to be called a soldier. Soldiers, himself included, had a certain rigidity to their actions. Everything followed a formula, and equation, and teamwork. A warrior fights alone, with a flair that can be intentional or unintended, and can tear through small organised formations with their unpredictable attacks, like this armoured woman did. She also carried herself with a certain pride, even a touch of arrogance.

Soldiers also don't fight with a pair of pistols.

She was currently helping with the moving of the Batarian dead, piling them up for cremation once they'd been checked for criminal records and other useful information. Pirates and militia alike were with her.

She had yet to remove her helmet.

Volkov glanced around, and saw that the last guns were being packed up and taken down into the bunker's armoury. Rather than just report of the comms, he decided to report in person. Maybe he could catch Alexandria, and they could talk. He did want to talk to her again.

He saw the Dragoness nod past Lt. Jameson's shoulder as he approached, and the young woman turned to face her.

"The guns are all packed up ma'am," he said, eyes flicking between the two women.

"Thank you Volkov," Jameson said, before adding in a slightly wry tone, "though you didn't need to tell me in person. A message would have been fine."

Volkov shrugged. "Let an old solider have his quirks," he said, a slight smile on his face, "besides, it's not like we're in the middle of combat."

"True," the Lt. replied, before her omni-tool pinged. She glanced at it, before sighing. "Governor wants a report," she muttered, more to herself than to them.

"Go on Lt.," Volkov said, "we've got things here." Jameson nodded in thanks before striding off towards the bunker.

There was a slightly awkward silence once Jameson had left. Alexandria wasn't stupid after all, the way that he'd approached meant that he wanted to say something after all. Finally he glanced around, making sure no one was in ear shot, before stepping slightly close. A smile twitched around his lips.

"Long time no see, krykhitka."

Alexandria flinched. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, trying to deny his words.

"I think I would remember the person who kicked me in the shin when they barely even reached my waist."

He stared into the silent face plate, even now towering over the woman. She was now around the height of his chest, rather than his waist, but even so she was craning her neck back to meet his gaze through the carved visor. Finally, she sighed, and slumped.

"How?" She didn't need to finish the question.

"How many would rush back to Mindoir like you did?" He asked, "and how many of those would do so for a mother, a father, a sister, and a brother?" He stared at her for a moment. "Though if the rumours are true, the sister has come back from the dead. Or maybe she never died."

"She did die," Alexandria said quietly, "but a miracle happened. Cerberus somehow brought her back. I don't know how and quite honestly, I don't care. That they did it is what matters. God must have guided their hand, and He gave us the chance to reunite."

Volkov raised an eyebrow at that last sentence. "I though you hated going to church."

Alexandria gave a weak chuckle. "I clung to while I was enslaved. Dunno why, but I'm still here. He must still have plans for me."

"Then why did you become a pirate?" He asked.

Alexandria's body language became irritated. "Not you as well," she snapped quietly, crossing her arms. "I did what I had to to survive. Omega and the Terminus don't exactly accept charity cases." She crossed her arms. "And I wanted to revenge. I wanted to kill all the slavers, every single one of them, and grind their operations to dust."

"And you didn't want to be weak."

Alexandria looked up at him sharply. Volkov just smiled. "You hated being weak when you only reach my waist, and I doubt that that has changed in all the years that have passed." He tapped the centre of the visor, as if he was tapping her nose, something that he had done even when she was little. "I still see you as my krykhitka, who kicked me in the shin just to get your way."

"Pretty sure I hurt myself more than I hurt you," Alexandria said with a wet chuckle.

"Probably," Volkov agreed with a deep chuckle of his own.

"I made traps that day," she said after a moment, "led them on a merry chase for a good quarter of an hour till I finally got caught." She looked back up at him, and he was sure her eyes were twinkling behind her helmet.

Volkov smiled at that. "That's my girl."

"I'm not your daughter though."

"True," Volkov said, "though… if I'm honest, and looking back, you were something of a niece to me. You know I never married, still haven't." He smiled again, but it was sad. "I grew to care for you krykhitka. Perhaps more than your parents would have liked."

"Dad wouldn't have cared," Alexandria said, a smile clear in her voice, "mum was the one more worried about family standing."

"Her family were richer than your father's," Volkov said, shrugging, "though it is somewhat ironic considering that she didn't give a damn when it came to your father."

"Yeah, never understood that myself." Alexandria sighed, and Volkov guessed she was rolling her eyes. Then she hesitated, and became somewhat shy. "And… I saw you as an uncle too. A big, loud uncle who snuck his niece sweets when the parents weren't looking."

Volkov swallowed, trying to remove the lump his throat. He wasn't very successful. "One thing I've realised since meeting Ems again is that there is no point saying things you'd regret leaving unsaid," Alexandria continued quietly.

"Thank you," Volkov managed to say at last. "I'd hug you, but it would probably raise to many questions."

Alexandria laughed. "True," she said, then glanced around. "There's someone I need to talk to before we get off planet. Wouldn't surprise me to learn the fleet that arrived has orders to capture me if possible, and I don't want to force anyone here into a difficult position."

"Anyone who tried to arrest you right now would get lynced," Volkov said, regaining full control of his voice.

"I'd rather not cause my home more problems than I already have." Alexandria turned to go.

"One more thing." Alexandria half turned back toward Volkov at her 'uncle's' voice. "Find the bastard who ordered this. Then kill him."

Behind her visor, Alexandria gave a vicious grin. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

 **CHiTD**

Niveah rolled her shoulders as she straightened, the last of the slavers on the pile after having been stripped of anything useful and identified. Just because this was a sanctioned colony didn't mean that it couldn't use a little extra equipment or funding. The bodies would be incinerated, and their ashes would be dumped into space.

It also gave her time to think.

This… Dragoness, as she had heard her doppelgänger called, had clearly walked a path not indifferent form hers. True, she had not been a slave, but she had become a force in the galactic underworld, her name one to fear, and a reputation that brought both allies and enemies. Some of the soldiers had been sending her and her men wary glances, as if afraid she was going to steal from them as well. Others were less concerned with the pirate and more concerned with celebrating. She could already see people making plans to party. She couldn't blame them, if she was honest. Successfully repelling a raid always made people celebrate.

She was also fairly sure that some of them would regret it come morning. She knew soldiers well enough.

It was the men and women around her that alerted her to the pirate warlord's approach. They fell silent and turned wary, a few hands twitched towards pistols before their owners held them still.

Niveah turned.

The two women stared each other down. Both helmeted faces giving nothing away. Then the Dragoness extended a hand.

"Ner Vod," she said simply, but also firmly. Niveah felt a thrill run up her spine. The way that the Dragoness had said those words meant she knew what they meant, and there was only way that could happen. She'd met Kythelea.

She grasped the Dragoness in a warrior's hand shake, gripping her forearm even as the Dragoness closed her hand around her own forearm. "Ner Vod," she replied warmly, a half smile on her face. "We've got a lot to talk about."

The Dragoness' helmet shifted slightly. Niveah guessed she was smiling. "We do, but not here." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, towards the edge of town. "I need to scarper before the Alliance tries to arrest me, despite the fact I've helped them out here."

Niveah sighed in a very put-upon way. "Governments, such ungrateful institutions," she faux-complained. "You help them out, then they try and arrest you or kill you. Or just don't pay you."

The Dragoness laughed. "Too true," she chucked, turning and walking off. "We dust off in 15, get anything you need and meet us on the edge of town." Niveah nodded and set off at a jog back towards her landing site where she'd left her pack. A smile was on her face.

She was going to find her sister.

And then kick her ass for being an idiot.

She did not see the eyes that watched her, assessing her, making mental notes. The Cerberus agent began to plan their report.

 **CHiTD**

 ** _Horizon Atmosphere – Around the time the_** **Night Wyvern** ** _entered Mindoir Orbit_**

The shuttle trundled its way towards the planet's surface, fully load with the ground team. This was the Collectors they were about to go up against after all. Their capabilities were generally unknown, beyond having advanced technology. Everyone was tense.

Everyone but Grunt. He was excited. Then again, he was a Krogan.

Some were handling the tension better than others. Shepard, Kythelea, Jacob, and Garrus, all soldiers, projected tense but collected airs. Miranda and Mordin, as operatives, current and former respectively, were less obviously tense, though there was a slight twitchiness to their movements that gave away their tension. Kasumi was fidgeting with her Tempest SMG, less used to waiting for action like this. Any fighting that happened during her heists came with little warning, or she avoided it. She rarely moved towards combat willing, despite her capability in it. Jack was eager for the fight, somewhat like Grunt, but more irritated at the waiting. Pre-planned violence wasn't normally her thing, it tended to happen more spontaneously.

To pass the time, she studied Kythelea. The blue armoured woman was interesting. Jack had seen and heard a lot of things through her years in the criminal underworld, but Kythelea was interesting because she was new. They had run into each other a few times since Jack had boarded the _Normandy_ , usually in the mess or showers since they were the only places that Jack went beyond her little hidey-hole below engineering, and Jack had instantly picked up on the similarity of features between Shepard and Blackstone. If Shepard grew her hair they would look even more identical, though Blackstone had a large tattoo on her face that covered the upper right side of her face, including her right eye.

There was also the way she acted. She seemed to have an inordinate, but quiet, curiosity of the world around her, like she kept seeing new things, or something similar to what she knew. She'd also entered the women's bathrooms once to find her looking distant and sad, an expression that had vanished a split second later when the soldier realised she had company.

Kasumi was also studying Kythelea. She had, for the sheer hell of it and because she was a kleptomaniac, decided to take a peek inside the lockers in Kythelea's makeshift room in the cargo bay. One had been locked with a simple digit code lock, nothing fancy, and she'd cracked it quickly. It had been clothes and toiletries, as well as a couple of data pads. The other had Kasumi's head spinning. It seemed simple at first, a typed in password, but then the keyboard had appeared. She hadn't recognised any of the characters, leaving her utterly stumped. She'd tried to hack in, but she ran into another road block straight away, namely that the lock's firewalls were coded in a computer language she did not recognise, as well as utilising the same alphabet as used in the password.

But where had it come from?

She had retreated to her room to puzzle it out, but hadn't been able to draw any conclusions before the call to the briefing room went out.

"3 minutes to LZ," the shuttle pilot called over the intercom. Immediately the shuttle came alive with last minute weapon and gear checks. Shepard moved to check Garrus over, then went to assist Grunt with a not quite fitted armour plate on his hump. Garrus turned to Kythelea.

"I'd help you," he said dryly, "but I wouldn't know how."

"Give the plates and tubing a tug," Kythelea replied, "make sure they're all locked in place." Garrus nodded, and began doing just that, starting with her arms and upper body, then moving down to her legs.

"All good Blackstone," he said.

"Thank Garrus," she replied, picking up her cannon form where it rested on the shuttle's bulkhead. She wasn't carrying the Clarymore she took from Gram's corpse, this time anyway. Her goal for this mission was to be fire support, not up in their faces.

"Alright listen up," Shepard said, drawing her team's attention to her. "The Collectors are here, and we've caught them before they could get away. Our primary goal is to kick them out." She pulled up her omni-tool, projecting an image of the colony from orbit. "We're splitting into two teams for this. Anvil's main objective is to secure the town and locate any survivors. Blackstone has command." She pressed a button and a red dot blinked into life on the image. "EDI identified this as a control point for the colonies GUARDIAN defence guns. Hammer's objective will be to secure the controls and get those guns firing. That should, at the least, drive the Collector's away, maybe even prevent them from taking off outright. Hammer will be under my command." She lowered her arm, glancing around. "Questions?"

"You sure you don't want Grunt?" Kythelea said, grabbing a strap hanging from the ceiling, "you've got plenty of fire power, but none of you can really take much of a hit." Anvil team was made up of Kythelea, Garrus, Grunt, Jacob and Mordin, while Hammer had Shepard, Jack, Kasumi and Miranda.

"I'm sure," Shepard said. "We can always project barriers if need be." Kythelea nodded, then slipped on her helmet.

"60 seconds to LZ," came the call over the intercom.

"Anvil out first," Kythelea said, moving over to the shuttle doors.

"You just want all the kills," Garrus snarked.

"Guilty as charged," Kythelea shot back.

"30 seconds to LZ." The shuttle fell quiet as they closed in.

"Doors in 5," the pilot said, and right on cue, the door hissed open. Kythelea hopped out, scanning left and right with her cannon. Garrus and Grunt were moments behind her, then Jacob, and lastly Mordin, the professor's Tempest SMG holstered in favour of a Scorpion grenade pistol, a weapon normally restricted to the STG. When questioned about where he had obtained it, he's simply smiled and said, "Old colleague owed me a favour."

Their immediate landing zone was clear, allowing the _Normandy's_ ground team to land unopposed. Their initial advance was also met with no resistance.

"Commander?" Came Joker's voice over the comms, "can you hear us?" His voice was crackly and distorted. "We're trying to establish a conn-" The words petered out into static and distortions.

"Joker? Joker come in," Shepard said, then muttered a curse when she met only white noise.

"Could be Collector Swarms," Mordin theorised, thinking with his typical rapidity and genius, "energy given off must be disturbing signal."

"At least that counter of yours is working," Jacob said, eyeing the swirling swarm.

"Yes," Mordin said with a nod, "confuses swarm, should make us invisible." He paused, then added, "in theory."

"In theory?" Kasumi said dryly.

"Field testing only possible way of confirming," Mordin said brightly, "hope we survive."

"On that charming note," Shepard said, raising her Hornet to her shoulder, "move forward." With the Commander on point, they moved into the colony as one team, following a wide track that was likely used by agricultural machinery. Horizon was a farming colony after all, and did fairly well with it from reports that EDI had dug up.

It was as they approached a small open-air depot that they first saw them.

There were around 25 of the insectoid looking aliens inside, some seemingly standing guard, others guiding hovering pods of some kind.

Shepard relayed this to her teammates. "Kythelea, you've got a grenade launcher on that cannon of yours, don't you?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, want me to open up?"

"In a moment." Shepard glanced at her teams. "Kasumi, on my go you cloak up and get on of them on the outskirts. You need to draw their attention for just a moment while Blackstone opens fire." She glanced at Garrus. "Garrus you use your sniper to take out anyone using something that looks like a heavy weapon." Her eyes flicked to Grunt. "Once Blackstone finishes firing Grunt, get in their and up in their faces." The krogan grinned and nodded.

"Alright. Kasumi." The thief vanished into thin air, and moved like a wraith through the depot.

And so the master thief became the first person to strike back against the Collectors. Her omni-blade rammed into the neck of a Collector, right under where the jaw would be, while her Carnifex barked once, burying a round at point blank range into the skull of a second. The Collector force spun and opened fire as the Asian woman flipped into cover.

Just as planned.

Kythelea spun around the corner and unleashed a barrage of high-explosive grenades, targeting clusters of enemies. Garrus stepped around her a moment later, his Mantis rifle letting out a crack as it shot through the eye of a Collector. Then Grunt roared as he charged into them, laughing as his shotgun caved in the chitin like armour.

The rest of the team poured around the corner, unleashing their weapons against the few still out of cover. Though the impetus of their surprise attack was gone, they still held the momentum as they forced the Collectors to hunker down. They in turn ran to cover. Shields and barriers only held so long, and the Collectors were supposed to have very good weaponry. It was good thing they did, as the Collector's began to reorganise, retuning fire and setting up barriers that looked like honey comb.

Kythelea swung her cannon out of cover, levelling it at a Collector who was firing on Jacob, and squeezed the trigger, seeding a torrent of azure plasma bolts hurtling towards. To her surprise, the bolts didn't rip through the insect like alien, instead impacting with purple-black flashes on a personal shield. She muttered a curse as she ducked back into cover to avoid counter fire from a pair of Collectors elsewhere. "Their shields stop my cannon," she said to Garrus, who was firing around the large crate they were behind with his assault rifle. Garrus glanced at one of the Collectors, letting his visor scan them.

"They've got biotic barriers," he said, ducking back to avoid a burst of fire, "stops pretty much everything rather than just kinetics."

"So they're pure energy?"

"Yep."

"That would explain it," Kythelea grunted, opening fire once more, "damn annoying though." She fired off a high impact bolt, grinning as it blew out the chest of a Collector. "Gotten used to not having to worry about shields."

"Well now you get to join us mortals," Garrus remarked, before firing off an overload, rapidly followed by a burst of fire that dropped the Collector.

"I preferred being a goddess," Blackstone quipped, before darting to another section of cover. She jammed up against it, settling herself momentarily, then swung out and fired her grenade launcher at a cluster of enemies suppressing Jack, Shepard and Mordin, forcing the Collector's into cover.

Shepard pounced on the opening. Gathering biotic energy around herself, she Charged, hitting home like a cannonball. Even as the Collector's reeled she was shooting, her shotgun spitting fire at point blank, killing two of them. She spun towards the third, but she was beaten to the punch by Grunt, who body slammed him to the floor then stomped on his head.

The rest of the Collectors tried to retreat, now outnumbered and thoroughly outgunned, but a shockwave from Jack sent them flying, leaving them easy targets for the rest of the squad. Miranda got the last one, placing a burst of fire into the insectoid alien as it tried to roll away.

"Alright people, in your teams," Shepard said, reloading her Hornet. "Hammer, we're going to be moving fast, so keep low, don't slow down, and blast through them. We don't have the armour to get bogged down."

"Don't worry Shepard," Kythelea said, "we'll make plenty of noise."

"Don't make too much," Jack said, "I'm only just getting started."

"You'll get your chance," Shepard said, then looked back at Anvil. "Get going, and good luck."

"I don't need luck, I have ammo," Grunt interjected. Jacob chucked and gave Grunt's shoulder a shove.

"Well said," the former corsair praised Grunt.

Grunt grunted.

And with that inspiring send off, the team split up.

* * *

 **AN:** Couldn't squeeze all of Horizon into one chapter. I'll finish it in the next one.

I sent everyone down because it just makes sense. You have a crack squad, why leave some of them behind for such a vital mission? Especially when the increased numbers mean you could clear out the enemy faster.

Anywho, rate, review, and I'll see you next time. (Hopefully it won't be almost a year!)


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